


Suddenly All the Songs Were About You

by Anna521614



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Banter, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Budding Love, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Confused John, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Farmer John, First Love, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay Sex, Gay Sherlock Holmes, High School, Humor, I colloquially and affectionately call this story Farmer John, Loss of Virginity, Love, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Plot, Rimming, Romance, Sex, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Takes place in southern USA, Teen John Watson, Teen Sherlock, Teenagers, Top John Watson, Virgin Sherlock Holmes, all characters are of the age of consent!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28766904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna521614/pseuds/Anna521614
Summary: “First day of senior year, man!” Greg enthusiastically clapped his hands down on John’s shoulders. “Come on, aren’t you the least bit excited?”“yes, yes, I’m excited; just maybe not as much as you,” he laughed, “It’s just another year.”Little did he know how wrong those words would turn out to be.When Sherlock's mom is sent to work at a research campus in the southern United States, he is less than thrilled about having to pack their family up. But once his eyes fall on straight football player and high school senior John Watson- he starts to think it might not be so bad.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 128
Kudos: 121





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS UPDATE WAS MADE MARCH 4,2021- This story now has a playlist of songs that will coordinate with the titled chapters. This is NOT the kind of playlist you should listen to WHILE YOU READ! In my opinion, the songs will be the most impactful after you have read the chapters. The playlist will help give you a deeper insight to the characters emotions and occasionally coincides with details of the chapters. The link to these playlists can be found in the authors notes at the end of each chapter!

AHH! It's finally here! If you are here from my first story 'Starving to Please' I want to thank you for following my writing, it means more than you'll ever know! If you have just discovered this work- Hi! I hope you enjoy it! 

I have poured myself into this story for the past 6 months, it is by far what I am most proud to have accomplished in 2020. I hope it provides an escape, even if it's just for a little while, during the uncertain times. I know this story is very unconventional, but I hope you love it <3

THIS STORY WILL BE UPDATED EVERY WEDNESDAY! 

and last but certainly not least- I want to give the biggest thank you and shout out to my sweet friend and beta @DreamingAllDay for listening to me talk about this story for 5 months before I even began writing it, and listening to me drone on about it since the very first chapter. Thank you for reading it with me and correcting my millions of mistakes, I love you endlessly and am so grateful for you <3

Without further ado, I give to you chapter 1 of Suddenly All the Songs Were About You.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS UPDATE WAS MADE MARCH 4,2021- This story now has a playlist of songs that will coordinate with the titled chapters. This is NOT the kind of playlist you should listen to WHILE YOU READ! In my opinion, the songs will be the most impactful after you have read the chapters. The playlist will help give you a deeper insight to the characters emotions and occasionally coincides with details of the chapters. The link to these playlists can be found in the authors notes at the end of each chapter!


	2. Beginnings

The hot water cascaded down John Watson's tanned skin as the steam rose with the smell of his body wash. A faint trace of grass and earth was mixed in the aroma but faded as he lathered the soap across his chest. His muscles were pronounced and tired from this morning’s early work out session. Football season was fast approaching, and he was eager to be in near perfect condition for tryouts with the hope of becoming this year’s captain.

“Watson! Better hurry up!” a voice called out and then died off as its person left the room.

He sighed as he switched off the tap, grabbing his towel and wrapping it around his waist, making his way back to the main part of the locker room. He held in a grimace when his feet hit the cold tiles that had not been warmed by the spray of the shower. He watched his reflection pass by the mirrors as he rejoined some of the other boys who still lingered behind.

He flashed a smile at his best friend, Greg, who was just finishing redressing.

“First day of senior year, man!” Greg enthusiastically clapped his hands down on John’s shoulders, playfully pressing his thumbs into a pressure point causing John to shrug him off. “Come on, aren’t you the least bit excited? Nine more months of this hellhole and then we’re college bound athletes- going to parties, pulling lots of girls,” He finished with a wink and John chuckled.

“Yes, yes, I’m excited; just maybe not as much as you,” he laughed, stuffing his dirty clothes into his gym bag, “it’s just another year.”

Little did he know how wrong those words would turn out to be.

He and Greg began the uphill walk from the football field to the entrance of their high school. Students filled the parking lot, the hallways, the outside courtyards. A building that sat nearly empty for the months of summer was now booming with life. He walked the halls as people smiled and exchanged hellos and pleasantries about their summers. They spoke of vacations and jobs, laughs had with friends, and moments spent under the heat and humidity of the southern sky. 

John was, as he preferred to call it, well liked. In reality, the word is popular. He was the popular, handsome, football jock who also happened to be dating the soon to be cheerleading captain, Mary. The guys envied him, and the girls envied her.

He spotted her in the sea of people and approached her from behind wrapping an arm across her chest while the other held her waist. She let out a small shriek of surprise when he kissed her cheek and smiled. She turned to kiss him properly and her friends giggled when he lifted her off the ground. 

All the romance novels ever written, and movies ever scripted paled in comparison to the butterflies you felt when you watched a scene between real life high school sweethearts unfold.

Her soft voice fell on his ears with a “I missed you.”

A teasing grin formed across his face, “You saw me last night.”

“Not nearly enough of you,” She teased back and reluctantly pulled away from the embrace.

John took her hand as they began walking towards her first class. The two-minute warning bell rang, and he hastily said goodbye before rushing off to the opposite side of the school. He huffed in frustration, Great, he thought, late for my first class. As if having chemistry at 8 in the morning didn’t suck enough.

He surveyed the full classroom as all eyes fell on him. The teacher, a wide-hipped woman with dark hair rolled her eyes, “Nice of you to join us Mr. Watson, take a seat,” She said with annoyance before continuing on with her introduction. He and Ms. Whitton had a history together, and not a very fond one at that. John was by no means a bad student and his marks were sufficient, but his priority is always football, not chemistry. He rarely paid attention in class, turned in assignments late and had a general dislike for the subject. However, Ms. Whitton had crossed a line when she brought his struggles to the attention of his coach and nearly got him kicked off the team. She thrived on making her students feel ignorant only to make herself feel more intelligent. If she didn’t bring up the fact that she was working on her PhD in chemistry, she was talking about her previous job as a chemist for a paint company but gave it up like some sacrificial lamb so that she could teach young students like those who sat before her. 

There was only one available seat in the classroom, next to a boy he didn’t recognize. He was slightly hunched over the table highlighting information on the page in front of him. John sat down and carelessly tossed his backpack to the floor, not bothering to get out a pen or paper to take notes about the syllabus. Ms. Whitton continued to drag on for what felt like half an hour before finally making an announcement worth John’s time, “The seat you have chosen today will be your seats for the rest of the year. The person next to you will also be your lab partner, so I want you all to collect a sheet from the front of the room and fill it out so that you can get to know one another.”

John sighed and the boy next to him groaned causing him to smile. It was nice to know someone hated so-called ‘icebreakers’ as much as he did. They both stood at the same time. John was taken by surprise when he had to look up slightly at the other student who, dare he say, towered over him with his thin frame. He gave a tight-lipped smile, “I’ll get the papers.” He retrieved one for him and the other for the dark-haired boy. 

He felt odd as he recalled the image of his new lab partner, his mouth felt dry and his stomach seemed to flip. It was probably just from work outs and having forgotten his protein shake at home. He passed one of the sheets to his right, “Well, I guess we have to fill these out; since nine months of lab experiments and suffering through the worst subject known to man won’t be enough for us to get to know each other.” 

There was no reaction.

“Right, I’ll start then,” John thought it odd and mildly rude that the other boy hadn’t uttered as much as a hello.

“I’m John Watson. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Actually, are you new?”

The boy nodded, his curls bouncing with the movement. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off the paper in front of him.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Sherlock.” 

John’s head snapped up at the baritone voice, he was shocked to hear it come from such a small frame. “Sherlock?” he questioned, only for the boy to nod again. “That’s an interesting name.”

“Well, we can’t all be named John,” The voice came again, but now with an accent, one John instantly knew he wanted to hear more of. He felt as if he had entered a trance, the rudeness of Sherlock’s remark was dropped entirely. He suddenly didn’t care what the boy said to him, as long as he kept talking.

“Oh, you’re REALLY not from here. You’re English?” 

Another nod.

“What part of England?” Please, speak again. Please don’t stop speaking.

“Does it matter? If I say anywhere other than London, will you know where I’m talking about?”

John’s brows raised. It’s not that this stranger was wrong, he had very little knowledge of cities in the U.K., in fact, he wasn’t even entirely sure he knew where London was located. Still, the remark came off as condescending.

While John was taking in the comment, so was Sherlock. His mother was always warning him to mind his tone, and he got the sudden realization that this should have been one of those times. “I apologize. It doesn’t matter what city; I am from London.”

John gave him a smile, “What brings you all the way down here?”

“My mother is working on a project for the state college, it was an extended study that required her to be here in person, so she packed up our family and now we are here.” John was looking deeply into the bright blue eyes that seemed to gaze through his very existence.

It was quiet between the two for a moment.

“Have you always lived on a farm?”

John cocked his head, “Sorry? How did you - did someone tell you about me?”

Sherlock shook his head. 

“Then how do you know I live on a farm?” John was miles past confused.

“Well, a basic deduction of the area and the proximity of which you would have to live in to attend this school, given that American public schools are separated by districts. Your skin is evenly tanned, except I can see you’re paler just above your tee shirt line-you spend a significant amount of time outside, but don’t appear to burn easily, so you are outside for many hours every day - building up a tolerance. you’ve got traces of plant fiber on your jeans, dirt under your nails that you’ve obviously tried to clean but not enough to remove it entirely - possibly because you know they will just get dirty again, could also be because you’re unbothered by it.” Sherlock had now turned his head to gaze down once more, feeling embarrassed. 

John stared at the raven-haired boy. He felt as if his privacy had been invaded but couldn’t help but be impressed. “That…was amazing.”

Sherlock’s head jerked up, “Really?”

“Yes, of course it was. Truly incredible.”

“That’s not what people normally say.”

“What do they normally say?”

“Piss off.”

They both broke into short lived laughter. 

“You’ll have to tell me how you did that sometime. But for now, we should fill out these sheets before Mrs. Bitchon has a fit,” John pulls a pen from his bag and clicks it to begin writing.

“You don’t much care for her I suppose?” 

John shook his head, “No, we are too different. She’s also just a bitch,” John laughed but Sherlock didn’t. Cursing didn’t bother him; he was far from a prude, but he detested the word bitch. He hated how men threw it around to describe any woman they had slight grievances with. He hated how women did the same thing.

“So, we already know each other’s names. Next question is: Favorite subject. Well I’ll just let you know, mine is most certainly not chemistry. Everyone who’s good at it thinks they are so much smarter than everyone else. So what, you can plug in formulas and make sense of tiny things you can’t even see. I guess my favorite would be history. What’s yours?”

“Chemistry.”

“Shit.” John felt his stomach drop and blood run cold. He begged himself to conjure some kind of explanation as to why he felt the need to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness to the boy he just met. “I’m sorry-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sherlock cut him off and proceeded to ask the next question, “what are your plans after high school?”

John shrugged, “I’m either joining the military or playing college football and working towards med school.”

Sherlock huffed out a sarcastic laugh.

“What?”

“You know you’ll have to do a lot of chemistry to go to med school, right?”

“I mean, I know I’ll have to do some, but it won’t be that bad, right?”

Sherlock ignored the question, “I’ll go to university after high school.”

“Know what you want to do?”

“Double major in chem and forensics,” He said casually, still holding John’s undivided attention.

“Wow, that’s ambitious. You must be a genius,” John laughed good-naturedly.

“Yes.”

His lips parted in surprise, “Oh, right then.”

They continued down a list of surface level questions about one another until the last question made John’s heart skip a beat. It was a simple line for the other person to fill in their phone number so that they could consult one another for help. Why would he be excited to have this boy's phone number? 

“Mind to write your number down for me?” 

Sherlock shook his head, “I don’t have an American cell phone yet, should be getting one soon.”

A feeling rose up in the left side of John’s chest…was it disappointment? “Alright, I guess we can take care of that when you get one.” 

The rest of the class dragged on. Sherlock took notes and worked problems while John leaned back in his chair and stayed on his phone. Sherlock couldn’t help but roll his eyes and think to himself, Maybe you’d like chemistry more if you paid attention. Still Sherlock couldn’t help but admire how ruggedly handsome the man next to him was. Sherlock was openly gay if anyone truly cared to know, but it wasn’t information he willingly offered up if not provoked. His brother, Mycroft, had given him a warning before they moved to take extra precaution on who he let know about his sexuality; citing that people may not be as accepting in the south as they were back home. Mycroft was already in his last year of undergraduate studies and remained back home, rather than traveling with his family to the states. Never would he admit it, but he found himself missing his brother from time to time. Did he miss his brother or did he long for the feeling of familiarity, the feeling of home? The two muddled together and ultimately it didn’t matter, because he was stuck here until the end of next summer. 

He could no longer listen to the teacher drone on about the review of the periodic table and intermolecular forces. He looked around the classroom, taking in how different his surroundings were in comparison to those back home. When he looked outside, past the student parking lot, there was a lush green field, a tree line, and rolling hills that flowed with ease against the highway that cut through them. It looked as if the infrastructure interrupted nature. Back in London it was the opposite. You looked out a window only to see another building or a traffic filled street, any fragments of nature looked man made and out of place. The nature disrupted the infrastructure. He looked at the lot full of vehicles. It seemed every student that was of age drove to school. There was no metro, no taxis. it appeared the only way to school was by bus or your own car. Many cars looked similar to those in London, but the large quantity of trucks stuck out like a sore thumb. Some trucks were obviously old, the paint chipping and dents littering the body of the vehicle, some were raised far off the wheels, some sat lower. It was all very foreign and another reminder that he was no longer home.

When the bell rang, he began collecting his items as John threw his backpack over one shoulder. 

“It was nice meeting you; I’ll see you around,” The American waved before quickening his pace to leave the room.

Sherlock watched him fade out of view before gazing at his schedule to find his next class: English.

He felt lucky that his next room was close by, allowing him to arrive with ample time to pick a seat. He chose one next to a rather plain girl. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail and was a dull brown with the slightest cast of red. Her lips were thin, but her smile was welcoming when she cast it in his direction. He furrowed his eyebrows, Everyone here is so friendly… outwardly friendly. People weren’t rude back home, but they didn’t just smile and talk to everyone they encountered. He sat down next to her and began to retrieve his English notebook as well as the chemistry assignment they had been given last class, he knew he would be able to finish it before the next class even began.

“Hi there, I’m Molly,” the girl chirped in an enthusiastic tone, one that made Sherlock consider changing seats already. However, he wasn’t really in the position to turn down a friendly face. She held out her hand, waiting for him to take it and reluctantly he did.

“Sherlock,” he gently gripped her hand and gave it a small shake.

A tall, broad man made his way into the classroom and introduced himself as Mr. Finley, their teacher. He droned on about how the course would go and interesting facts about his life. All the while Sherlock was scribbling away at the assigned chemistry work. Suddenly, Mr. Finley’s deep voice came to a pause and the room felt uncomfortably quiet. When he took his eyes off his paper everyone was turned in their seats, all eyes on him. He locked eyes with the teacher.

“Did you hear what I said?” 

Sherlock shook his head.

The tall man laughed; it was obvious he was somewhat annoyed, “We are going to stand up and introduce ourselves to the class - and since you’re having such a difficult time paying attention- you can go first. Go ahead, tell us your name, age, what you want to do as an adult, and an interesting fact about yourself.”

Sherlock cleared his throat and stood from his seat, “My name is Sherlock, I’m 16, I want to be a detective, and I play the violin.”

A few boys snickered at his last comment. He flushed red and cast his gaze toward the floor. They had varsity number patches on their backpacks, exactly like the one John had on his. 

“Alright, settle down people,” Mr. Finley directed the comment toward the back corner of jocks. “Sherlock, where are you from?”

“London.”

“Well, we’d like to welcome you to our humble state. We don’t have many exchange students come here, so if anyone has questions, they’d like to ask our new student, go ahead.”

Sherlock was sure he looked like a deer in the headlights. Right now, he wished he actually was one and that the car would hit him, and it would all be over. Soon students fired questions of all kinds at him. How long was the plane ride, why do we drive on the ‘wrong side of the road’, had he met the queen, do we all talk like this (asked in an appallingly bad pretentious sounding British accent). Sherlock answered very few of the questions before he grew tired of it, “No wonder people don’t come here voluntarily. You can google the rest of your questions.”

The entire class fell silent and he knew his comment didn’t go over well. The teacher stared blankly at him before making an awkward transition to the next person to introduce themselves.

From the corner of jocks came the remark, “Not only is he a pretty musician but he’s a dick too.” 

Another round of stifled laughter emerged. He was not making this easy for himself.

“Ignore them. We all do,” Molly gave him a reassuring smile that he was able to return with a sense of sincerity.

His next two classes went by uneventful, which he was grateful for. Then came lunch. In the typical style of every new kid’s worst nightmare, he scanned the cafeteria for a place to sit. He hoped to see a familiar face but knew the lunches were separated in blocks and the odds of him having third-hour lunch with either one of the two people he had managed to speak to and not piss off was slim to none. He didn’t care if he had no one to sit with, but he didn’t want to join in at a table full of already established friends. 

A small hand was placed on his arm, jolting him from his thoughts. He looked down at the tiny brownish-red haired figure and released a breath he didn’t know he was holding - it was Molly.

“Want to join me?” she asked with a smile.

He nodded gratefully and followed her to a high-top table near the wall made entirely of windows. There was almost no need for lights in the lunchroom, the wall let in so much natural sunlight it illuminated the large area. He easily pulled himself onto the high stool and began unpacking the lunch he made this morning. He looked up to see Molly struggling to lift herself into the seat. He looked her over more carefully. She couldn’t be much more than 5ft tall and was of average body weight. He deduced she had some kind of minor vitamin deficiency from the way her skin was darker near her eyes, she had at least two indoor cats that most likely spent a good deal of time in her room- explaining the stray hairs on her shirt. She wasn’t poor but not wealthy. In layman’s terms she was…well, very average.

“So, how long have you been here?” she took a bite of her sandwich.

Sherlock did the same, “Only a week.”

She nodded “What do you think so far? Made any friends?”

“To be honest I’ve not been out of the house much. My parents are renting a small place a little ways out, coming to school this morning was the first time I’d ever seen the town. Friends? No.”

She turned her head slightly to one side, “Well, I’m sure you’ll have lots of new friends in no time. Mr. Finley wasn’t lying when he said we don’t get many exchange students -”

“I’m not an exchange student.”

Molly giggled, catching Sherlock off guard, he couldn’t think of a single thing he had said that was even remotely funny. “No, I figured that out, but it seems nicer to call you that than a foreigner.”

Sherlock shrugged. It didn’t bother him.

“Anyway, we don’t have many foreigners come to our school. I’m sure everyone will want to be your friend soon.”

“I hope not.”

She cocked her head once more, “Really, why?”

“I’m not exactly the most social person,” He replied, taking another sip of his drink.

Molly just nodded, “Well, when you decide you want to call someone a friend, I hope you’ll put me in the running.” 

He smiled back at her. He could get used to her. She wasn’t overbearing, a little perky for his taste but she kept it at a minimum. The thought of her being a friend came easily to him.

“So, let me see the rest of your schedule!” she made a grabbing motion with her hand and Sherlock passed over the folded piece of paper. “Oh, wow, you’re in senior year chemistry? And math and history?”

“I wanted to be in all senior level classes, but they limited me to three,” The annoyance was evident as he took another bite of his lunch.

Molly pursed her lips together and looked back and forth between her phone and his schedule “Well, it seems we only have English and lunch together,” her tone was disappointed in nature and it evoked some kind of feeling deep within Sherlock. It was almost as if he was glad that she was disappointed not to have more classes with him.

“Do you have many friends?” the question seemingly came out of thin air. Molly looked up at him in surprise. 

“Friends, not really. Some acquaintances in each class - enough to get me through the day at least,” She smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “My best friend, Kate, moved away over the summer. Her dad got a job a few states over. So, this will be the first time since pre-school we haven’t had one another.”

Sherlock nodded, internally appreciative that Molly could become a constant for him.

The lunch bell rang to dismiss them, and it was off to history class. The room was already over half filled with students, all chattering among themselves. In the back he saw the same loud-mouthed jock from his English class. He was sitting on the back counter talking with two other jocks whose backs were facing him. One of them had a beautiful, by society’s standards, blonde haired girl sitting in his lap. Her long, obviously fake-tanned, legs were crossed perfectly beneath her white skirt. Sherlock often sat with his legs draped the same way… until his brother pointed out that it attracted the wrong kind of attention, that men didn’t traditionally sit that way. Sherlock always rolled his eyes at the comment but with repetition it became internalized and he avoided crossing them all together - despite how comfortable it was. In the privacy and acceptance of his home they always seemed to find their way to overlap one another, but behind those walls no one cared about something so trivial as how he chose to sit. 

He pulled himself from his own thoughts and directed his attention back to the young woman, who was now removing herself from the boy’s lap and taking the seat next to him. When he turned to face the room, his brows raised…John. A twinge of hurt ran through him but he quickly dismissed it. How pathetic could he be? Getting upset over a first day crush, one he knew had to be straight as it was. Probably homophobic anyways. Sherlock took a seat two rows ahead of the group and did his best to listen to yet another lecture about how class would work for the year to come. His best efforts proved weak when he found himself picking at the skin on his finger and wondering about John. What was his life like outside of school, did he live nearby, what animals and crops were on his farm, did he often work shirtless…? Sherlock shook his head slightly in hopes to discard that thought from his mind entirely, but the truth is he didn’t want it gone.

The rest of his school day went by uneventfully. He didn’t see Molly until they passed in the hallway, she was on the way to her car and he was making his way to an outside courtyard where his mom was due to pick him up any time. He watched as students and parents alike drove entirely too fast, trying to make it out of the lot before one another. On the end of a large, dark, blue truck sat John and the blonde girl, lips locked, and bodies pulled close to one another. Sherlock made a ‘bleh’ sound to himself, still he couldn’t take his eyes off the pair. A familiar voice with a posh accent pulled him from his trance. His mother pulled near the curb and called his name. As he walked down the curved sidewalk, he watched John help lift the girl into the passenger side of the truck. With legs that long Sherlock knew she was perfectly capable of getting in herself. But if he were in her position, he wouldn’t pass up the chance to have John hold him like that either. Shut up, he told himself and rolled his eyes.

“Aww, his mom picks him up too,” Came a voice of mockery from behind him. He didn’t even need to turn around to know it was the same boy from English and history.

He walked halfway around the car to get in the passenger side before stopping in his tracks and turning back around. Inside the car his mother giggled, and he couldn’t suppress the small smile that formed on his lips.

“It’s different having the driver’s seat on the left isn’t it?” she teased, and he nodded. “Was your first day alright? Make any friends?”

Sherlock shrugged, “It was alright, I suppose. friends? Not really, well, I don’t think so. Maybe one - her name’s Molly. We didn’t exactly talk it over, but she said she would be my friend if I ever wanted one.”

His mother looked over with a cocked eyebrow, “And you said?”

“I didn’t really say anything.”

She sighed and brought a hand to the back of his head, petting through his curls, “My love, you’re not really in a position to pass up friends.”

“Well I didn’t tell her I didn’t want to be her friend,” He was getting defensive over the subject. His mother withdrew her hand, “I just don’t think you can consider someone a friend after an hour of knowing them. As you know, human relationships are complex and littered with different levels of connectivity-”

“Sherlock, I know,” She sighed, “I just wish you’d open yourself up a bit more, you know how I worry.”

“Yes, constantly, that’s how you worry.”

“You’re my baby, I just want you to be happy,” She turned down the road that eventually led to their little temporary home. 

A few miles before they arrived at their house, Sherlock stared out the window at a huge expanse of land. It was divided in sections, some with cattle, other with plants that all looked so similar until they didn’t. They passed a sign that said main entrance and the expertly crafted iron gates that had a large ‘W’ welded into them. Sherlock had passed those gates a few times since he’d been here but today, they seemed to hold his attention a bit more than before.

When he got home, he took some water and went to his newly decorated room. His mother insisted he make it look the way he wanted since they would be here for quite some time. He protested saying he would have to take it all down in a year anyway, but she won the debate - as usual. In all honesty he’s glad she did, it was nice to come back to a place that resembled his room back home. It was immaculately clean and organized to perfection. His clothes hung in the closet in an index sorted by color and occasion, his sock index fit perfectly in his dresser drawers. He had an aquarium that held his betta fish that he managed to smuggle on the plane ride over. It was a young but growing male that his mother brought back from the lab and let him hatch out on his own. He recorded data on its growth, color, and personality change; it was a fascinating little animal to observe but he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy just having the little guy as company. 

He pulled his laptop from his bookbag and sat in his comfy chair near the window, crossing his legs. He ran his teeth over his bottom lip and pulled up his Facebook and Instagram accounts, typing the same name into the search bar: John Watson. He scanned through the photos he could see without sending a friend request. Many were of John and the blonde, who he now knew was called Mary. Pictures of her kissing his cheek, him holding her in his arms as she held a pose in her cheerleading uniform. He also learned John was a football player, and a good one at that. He saw a few pictures of the same deep blue truck that had sat in the parking lot, some of family, a dog, and livestock animals. He read through as much information as he could find, even making mental notes of the different profiles and their relationship to him: mother, cousin, sister, aunt. He closed the laptop in a hurry as the door to his room opened. His mother came in.

“Will you ever learn to knock?” the moment he heard his own words he wished he could grab them and put them back in his mouth, they came across far harsher than intended, “Sorry, Mum.”

She relaxed her face and nodded her head, accepting his apology, “Dinner is ready, come join us please.”

Sherlock knew dinner wasn’t up for debate tonight. He dragged himself to the kitchen and listened to his parents discuss the area and his mother’s new findings at the lab.

John had dropped Mary off not long after school ended. How could he have gotten so lucky to be with a girl like her? Their kisses lingered more each day, their hands roamed to new territory, before one of them would laugh and relocate said hands. They were comfortable. John came through the door of the large house, his mother was preparing dinner in the kitchen along with his little sister, Hannah. He pecked a kiss onto both of their cheeks before disappearing to his room. He put on the same pair of work jeans he wore the day before. They were faded and ripped in places, fraying in others. But they fit him well and were comfortable for the work he needed to get done. He decided to forgo a shirt since it was fast approaching evening. He looked in his mirror and ran his fingers through his sandy blonde hair. His lips quirked up when he saw the tan line near his shoulder and thought about the information Sherlock had been able to draw from it.

“John, the cattle -” his mom called out as he was pulling on his leather Ariat boots.

“Yeah Mom, I know. I’m headed out to take care of them now.”

“Dinner will be ready in half an hour, be back in time. You know I hate when your food is sitting out getting cold.”

He jumped in his truck and made his way towards the smaller of the two barns on their property. This barn held mostly items for cattle and goats. They stored the feed, hay, medicines and a few miscellaneous items in the tack rooms and had a small indoor area where John would occasionally bring in a pregnant cow or administer their medicines when the vet came out. His dad had encouraged him to make a purchase of nine calves and raise them to sell, and he could keep all of the profit. He was eager to show his dad how much he had learned from him over the years and to get to have livestock of his own to take responsibility for. Not that he didn’t already do a large sum of work on the farm as it is, but it felt different taking care of his cattle than his dad’s. 

He filled several large buckets with feed and loaded them in the ATV that they used to get from place to place on the farm. He drove out through the field to the feed troughs and called out to the cows, ‘his girls’ as he called them to his parents. All nine came leaping through the field at the sound of his voice and of feed being poured in the long metal dish. He stood and watched them eat for a minute, checking them over for any injuries and signs of pregnancy. He gave a few of them a pat on the head before driving back to the barn. He sat outside making a checklist of what needed done around the farm this week, but found himself distracted; thinking of long legs, thin frame, and pale skin…but this figure in his mind didn’t have flowing blonde waves of hair, no, it was paired with soft black curls and an accent that made the air in his lungs vacate.

He shook his head in frustration. This wasn’t the first time he had thoughts like this about another boy. Off and on his whole life he had moments of what could only be called infatuation with boys he knew. Most recently was freshman year, a red head in his math class caught his attention and never let it go. That is until he transferred schools and John purged him from his thoughts. Not long after the boy had left, he began dating Mary, who was really his first official girlfriend. He battled off and on with thoughts of certain boys and every time he found himself thinking another male was attractive, he’d bite the inside of his cheek so hard it would draw blood. Perhaps it was some kind of sick self-punishment he’d give himself. Maybe he hoped he could make himself like one of Pavlov’s dogs and classically condition himself to associate thinking about the same sex with feelings of pain and discomfort. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to battle with these thoughts that lived inside him. He was not gay, and he certainly was too old to be having some kind of sexuality crisis. Besides, there was no way he could be gay. He had a hot girlfriend who he was very much attracted to. People like John Watson just weren’t gay.

Hours later, John had retreated to his bedroom and sent a goodnight text to Mary. Sherlock had said goodnight to his parents.

As John lay flat on his back in just his boxers, he tried his hardest not to think of the alluring and odd curly haired boy he met this morning. He felt disgusted with himself for thinking about another boy that way, especially right after saying goodnight to his girlfriend.

Sherlock lay in the same position, clad in a small pair of pajama shorts and tried not to think of the sandy haired boy from chemistry. He felt ashamed to think about a boy he knew was straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you all liked this first chapter and it didn't let you down! Please comment and let me know what you think! As always, stay healthy and safe,  
> lots of love,  
> Anna
> 
> THIS UPDATE WAS MADE MARCH 4,2021- This story now has a playlist of songs that will coordinate with the titled chapters. This is NOT the kind of playlist you should listen to WHILE YOU READ! In my opinion, the songs will be the most impactful after you have read the chapters. The playlist will help give you a deeper insight to the characters emotions and occasionally coincides with details of the chapters. 
> 
> Playlist for chapters 1 (Beginnings) and 2 (Baskets and Burettes): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hU0nP9dcI_w&list=PLG0SYRVliS1ggRGT5xqDFp1kEm44MbJ7e 
> 
> This playlist is giving you an insight to Johns life, an idea of his hometown, his family, and outlook for the future. It also gives readers a glimpse into the bond shared between John and his father


	3. Baskets and Burettes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi sweet readers! I hope you all are having a great week! Please let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow me on twitter for updates @OhHeyyItsAnna

The next day was Thursday and since his school opted for block schedules, he had different classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays than the other days of the week. MWF: chemistry, English, math, and history. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he had agonizingly long classes of French, biology, and a study period. Nothing worth noting happened during the school hours of this day. He went about his classes, worked ahead, and was pleased to discover Molly was in his study period. Her enthusiastic demeanor became more tolerable the more he spent time with her.

“I’d like to take you up on that ‘friend’ offer you mentioned yesterday, if it’s still open.” he mumbled as he packed his things to leave.

A bright grin pulled across the girl’s face, “of course!” she pulled a pen from her purse “give me your hand?” Sherlock cautiously held his hand out and shifted uncomfortably as Molly wrote her number across his palm. “There! Now you can text me if you need anything or want to hang out.”

“I don’t have my phone set up yet, but…thanks.”

They said their goodbyes and Sherlock took up his newly claimed spot on the bench near the parking lot. As soon as he stepped outside of the air-conditioned building, he felt gross. The humidity instantly made him feel sweaty, as if the heat didn’t moisten his skin enough. His button down felt as if it was becoming one with the skin on his back and he moved awkwardly trying to encourage air to flow beneath it. He regretted all the times he complained in the summers about the London heat, it paled in comparison to the greenhouse they called the south.  
His skin had tanned slightly darker during holidays in years past, but he disliked how he looked. Since then he took precautions to not tan during the summer months. To make Sherlock stand out even more, he maintained his pasty European complexion. Back in England, he could get away with long sleeves or a sweater, but not here. Here, he was certain he would die of heatstroke just thinking about a sweater. 

Finally, his mom arrived and waved him into the car. “I got something for you today…”

He looked at her questioningly.

She pulled a plastic bag from the back seats and fished out the latest iPhone. “unlimited talk, text, and data. And it will work when we go back home next year! I got the international plan so you can keep up with everyone back home and then here later on.”

Sherlock pulled his mom into an awkward hug over the center console and thanked her. He eagerly began setting the phone display to how he wanted it, changing his backgrounds, setting re-occurring alarms, and anything he might need in the near future. He suddenly remembered Molly’s number on his hand and began creating a contact for her.

His mother glanced over at the numerals littered across his hand and gave a teasing smile, “a cute boy gave you his number already?” 

Sherlock's head turned quickly to look at her. How could she possibly know about John, he swore he hadn't said a word about him. For a verified genius he felt pretty stupid. He realized she was looking at the ink on his hand and breathed out a sigh of relief. “no, mum. It's Molly from my English class I told you about.” Mrs. Holmes just nodded her head and kept driving.

Sherlock was sprawled out lazily on the couch that sat in the family room just adjacent to their kitchen. He could hear his mother cooking and his father doing the dishes as they went along. Sherlock admired his parents’ relationship; he could only hope to have one like it one day. If he had to describe the relationship in one word it would be symbiotic. His father and mother worked together like two pieces of a well-oiled machine; they complement each other in every way possible. They rarely argued, instead opting to always speak their concerns and listen to one another. He knew his family was different from others, but it worked for them. He heard the doorbell ring and rose from the couch to greet whoever was there. To his knowledge, they weren't expecting anyone, but that didn't mean his parents hadn't invited somebody over and forgotten to tell him. His mom was only a few steps behind him when he opened the door and a sandy blonde-haired boy stood before them holding a basket filled with vegetables and other canned items.

The two teenagers stared at each other for what felt like far too long considering those seconds were filled with silence. Mrs. Holmes came up behind him laying a hand on his shoulder “Sherlock, love, who is it?”

Before Sherlock could answer the boy stood before them piped up, “Hi, I'm John. John Watson. My family lives just a few miles down the road and my mother heard we had new neighbors and insisted I bring these things by. Just some vegetables from our garden and some honey from our bees to welcome you into town.” 

His smile was radiant, and his eyes were a place Sherlock wanted to get lost in. John may have been speaking to his mother, but his eyes never left Sherlock. 

The darker haired boy hated that he thought he saw John's pupils dilate. He couldn't afford to get caught up in silly notions like that. It would only break his heart in the end. 

He finally tore his gaze away from John. 

His mother was accepting the beautifully adorned basket of fresh goods, thanking him profusely and making small talk to him about the area. Sherlock was still in shock, wondering what deity had thought so much of him as to put the boy he hadn't stopped thinking about on his doorstep. The conversation seemed to blur together but felt casual enough…that was until his mother invited John in. 

John accepted graciously and even called his mother “ma'am” which seemed so foreign to hear in John's subtle southern accent rather than Sherlock's native tongue.

“Sherlock?” a hand tugging at his shoulder “would you like to step out of the doorway and let our guest in?”

The question was, of course, redundant and Sherlock flushed to the color of the tomatoes in his mother's arms. He stepped away, muttering an apology to anyone who wanted to hear it. John followed his mother into the kitchen, flashing a smile at him on his way past.

Sherlock closed the door behind them and once they were out of sight, he turned to lean his forehead against the door and willed himself to behave like a functioning member of society rather than one of the love-stricken teenagers he loathed in modern films.

“Darling, you know the beautiful farm down the road? The one with the iron gates you love? They sent over this wonderful arrangement!” his mother droned on and on while John stood at ease. How could he look so calm and poised? Sherlock felt as if he looked like a chihuahua that had been left in the cold. It's simple, Sherlock the voice in his head taunted he doesn't like you how you like him. Sherlock argued with himself but stopped when his mother introduced John to his father. Watching John shake his father's hand and addressing him as Sir should not have been as enticing as it was. 

“Oh John, how could I forget - this is our youngest son Sherlock.” his mother said, looking through the contents of the basket.

“Yes,” John extended his hand to shake Sherlock’s. “We actually met yesterday at school. He's fantastic at chemistry, and many other things I'm sure.”

Sherlock swore he saw the boy across from him wink and he blinked several times as if trying to make life replay itself. He cleared his throat trying to make room for words to come out -anything he said would have been better than continuing to stare in silence. “Yes, and John is very good at football.”

John tilted his head a bit and narrowed his eyes. It looked as if he was going to open his mouth to say something, but Mrs. Holmes beat him to it. “Oh really?! That's wonderful, we will have to come watch you play sometime. Aside from clips on the telly, we've never been to an American football game! it would be fun, wouldn't it darling?”

his father chuckled and nodded his head, still putting away dishes.

“John, you're more than welcome to stay for dinner,” his mother continued about the extra pasta she had made.

What was she thinking? She had to be trying to kill him. Perhaps she suddenly regretted having two children and wanted to cut back to one. How could Mycroft go back to being an only child? Sherlock was surely about to keel over from all the feelings and thoughts inside him.

John politely declined, as his mother was preparing something that was sure to be ready shortly and that he should really head out. Sherlock’s mother thanked him once more and he and his father said their goodbyes. “Sherlock, would you show John out please?”

He nodded and began walking toward the door he entered through.

“I never told you I played football.” A grin spread across John’s face and curiosity glistened in his eyes. 

Once more Sherlock found himself racking his brain for words, a new feeling for him since he never seemed to run out of them before John Watson. “The patches on your backpack, the gym bag you carry around, the friends you associate with have the same ones. You've been conditioning for something -unlikely all of you get together consistently and coordinate to workout at the same time and shower before classes begin. Your hair was damp when you came into class yesterday morning- given where I now know you live, I’m sure it would have dried before you arrived at school. The closest upcoming American sports season is football, it wasn't very difficult to decipher what sport you play.” Sherlock finally took a breath.

“Amazing,” John said, shaking his head. “So, how do you do that?”

“I'm very efficient at observing.” Sherlock's voice remained calm, but his inner monologue was scolding him, bullshit, you stalked him last night. Sherlock felt blessed to live in a world where John couldn't hear his thoughts.

John gazed up at the figure before him, amazed at his intellect, it surpassed his by far. While Sherlock observed and comprehended his surroundings, John stood wondering why the hand he shook Sherlock’s with felt as if it was on fire. “I'll see you in chemistry tomorrow?”

Sherlock nodded and took a step back inside the house, “I'll be there. And thank you again for the gift.”

John smiled and waved goodbye, climbing back inside the ATV.

Sherlock watched from the window. What a strange vehicle, is that really what he came here in? Was it even legal to drive that on a road? He heard his name being called from the kitchen and quickly took his seat at the table.

“What a nice boy, we should have his family over sometime soon.” his father began serving the salad and bread. “Would you like that Sherlock?”

He stared at his father who didn't meet his eyes. The tone was entirely neutral, but you didn't grow up in a family with skills of his deduction and not pick up on subliminal messages. “Dad, don't.”

His mother’s giggle matched his father's chuckle. Symbiotic. “I didn't say-”

“You implied. And now I'm asking you to drop it.” His tone was fast approaching disrespectful and he knew he was walking a fine line.

“Fine. All I'm saying is not everything is how it seems, Sherlock.”

“But almost everything IS exactly how it seems, and it is people’s delusions, hopes, and false pretenses that warped the view to fit the prerogative of that statement.” The words rolled off his tongue before he distracted himself with a forkful of salad.

His parents shook their heads but didn't mention John's name again that evening.

Soon before bed Sherlock was fixing himself his nightly cup of tea when he spotted the little jar of honey included from the Watsons. He admired the symbol of a bee on a flower that had been pressed into the glass siding. He unscrewed the lid and dipped a spoon into the liquid gold. He watched as it dropped in dollops into the steaming cup of tea. Before using the same spoon to stir his tea, he brought the utensil between his lips and tasted the sticky nectar. Is this what kissing John would taste like? He let himself wonder just a moment more before taking his tea up to his room and observing the rest of his microscope slides before him.

John’s short ride back to the farm gave his imagination plenty of time to run wild with thoughts of the boy’s home he had just left behind. When his mother pushed the basket into his hands it hadn’t even crossed his mind that the new family down the road might have been Sherlock’s. Their house was of average size with grey stones on the outer walls, the yard was landscaped beautifully. He always admired the quaint beauty of that home whenever he passed it, but now it held his attention even more- it housed a beautiful family. 

Both Sherlock’s mother and father were on the taller side, which explained Sherlock’s height. His mother had shiny dark brown hair that fell just below her shoulders, she was truly stunning, and Sherlock certainly favored her facial features. Their eyes were nearly identical in color and his cupids bow dipped deep in the same manner hers did. His father’s hair was already a salt and pepper array of colors, and his figure towered over everyone else.

He kicked himself when he remembered the wink, he had sent Sherlock’s way. A comment that was meant to be complimentary suddenly felt sleazy because of his poorly timed flirtation-that wasn’t even supposed to be happening! 

When he arrived home, he recounted the events to his mother who was overjoyed that they loved her gift and fluttered about the kitchen talking about how they would have to have them over sometime. It wasn’t an empty promise either. John’s family, in typical southern tradition, hosted guests and get togethers frequently. They had a large gazebo built in their backyard, near the pool, that was a perfect location for dinner parties. The gardens and animals provided plenty of scenery and entertainment for the guests and his parents had an ample amount of money and selfless generosity to host guests, sometimes more than once a month.

When he drove up the long, gravel driveway, he saw his father struggling to unload a bale of hay off of his truck. He put the ATV in park and hastily jogged to his father, “I got it, Pops.” He grabbed the bale by its strings and carried it with ease to the nearby horse paddock before cutting the string and tossing several flakes into the pasture of eagerly awaiting horses.

His father’s breathing was slightly labored as he chuckled and placed a hand on John’s shoulder, “Thank you, son. Where have you been?”

“Mom sent me down the road with a welcome basket for the new family.” His father nodded and mentioned they better head inside to wash up before supper was ready.

John trailed slightly behind and watched with pained eyes at his father’s slow pace and cumbersome gait. His father was in his mid-fifties, but his body had been weathered by nearly that many years of hard farm work.  
This farm was three generations down the line from what began as five acres and now surpassed over 110 at only this location. They owned another 75 acres about 20 miles out of town. John had an undeniable inborn fondness for the land he called home, but his love for the lifestyle ran deeper than familiarity. As a child, his mother would wake him early in the morning and help him put on an outfit that resembled his fathers, fix the two ‘men’ breakfast, before seeing them off for their day's work. John tagged along with his dad everywhere. He was driving tractors and plows long before he could drive a car. He was learning how and when to plant crops while other children were playing with toy cars. His dad never failed to tell him how proud he was of him. 

As John and his dad both grew older, the younger Watson took on a majority of the responsibilities. He planted and plowed many of the fields in the spring and harvested them in the fall. He cared for nearly all the animals in the evenings. If he wasn’t the one doing the work, he was organizing the farmhands who would do it. His summers often felt exhausting, and the fall months even more so. When school started back up it was a race against the sun to fit all of his activities into the day. The mornings were spent at conditioning, then school, then working the farm until dinner was called; after that it was homework and getting ready for bed. It was hard work, but he loved what he did, and loved his dad even more. It was a privilege to help him and metaphorically repay him for providing the life he had created for John and his sister. As long as things went to plan, harvest was always finished by the start of football season and he was able to continue playing the game he loved.

As they finished up dinner, tires could be heard pulling up the gravel drive. There was a soft knock on the open screen door before a familiar blonde appeared in the doorway of the dining room. 

“Ah, Mary!” His mother stood to hug her and insisted she sit down, offering her something to eat.

John stood from his seat to peck her cheek and pull out the seat next to him for her to sit. They all made small talk about school, football and cheerleading. Mary kindly offered to teach Hannah some stretches and basic moves. John’s family adored Mary. To be fair, she never gave them a reason not to. She was polite, social, and always willing to lend a helping hand. 

After he and Mary helped his mother put away the dishes, he led her upstairs to his room and flicked on the tv. Mary cuddled in close, her head coming to rest on John’s chest as she ran her hand soothingly over John’s abs. They exchanged conversation about what was happening on the screen but mainly laid in one another’s company. A character on screen spoke with a deep British accent and John immediately began thinking of Sherlock and how he looked today.

John almost felt physically sick with himself. Lying in bed with his girlfriend of three years and he was thinking of a boy he hadn’t known three days. In one quick motion he pushed Mary onto her back and hovered over her, kissing her passionately as his hand began to creep lower down her torso. He placed kisses down her neck as his fingers began working at the button of her jean shorts.

“now?” she questioned pulling back from the kiss.

John nodded “If you want to.” They had been sexually active since sophomore year, but John always checked in to make sure it was something they both wanted in the moment. She smiled up at him and nodded, pulling the hem of his white undershirt over his head. He lavished the feeling of her hands and mouth on his skin. This would make him forget about Sherlock…even if it was just for a little while.

The next morning was Friday, the end of their first week of school. John was making quick work of showering and getting dressed for class, eager to see if he could sneak in a few extra minutes with Sherlock before class began. Today would be their first official lab session, a simple introductory experiment that consisted of evaluating water displacement using aluminum. John was sloppily piling his workout clothes back into his bag when Greg emerged from the showers.

“You’re in a hurry this morning”

“Yeah, I need to finish some chemistry homework before class begins. Mary was over ‘til late last night and I didn’t get to work on it.” John threw his bag over his shoulder.

Greg gave a smug smile, “Got distracted, huh?”

John laughed and shook his head, avoiding any elaboration on what he knew Greg was implying. He said goodbye to a few teammates on his way out and jogged up the hill to the school. He felt lucky to see Mary straight away and give her a quick kiss and the lousy explanation as to why he wouldn’t be walking her to her first class.

When the opening of the classroom came into view, he saw Sherlock already sitting at their desk, reading over what he was sure was the lab procedure.

“Hey, Sherlock” John realized only after he said it that it may have sounded over enthusiastic, but there was no taking it back so he might as well not dwell on it.

“Good morning” Sherlock’s voice was quiet as he looked up from his reading. His topaz blue eyes meeting John’s ashy sapphire ones.

John knew his next question was ridiculous before he even said it, but he was determined to keep conversation. “Finish the homework?” stupid. John only knew the boy three days but was absolutely certain he didn’t forget to do homework.

Sherlock only nodded.

“Ready for today’s lab?” 

Another nod.

John felt disheartened by the lack of vocalization coming from Sherlock and embarrassed by how much seemed to be coming from him. Maybe he was being obvious. He should play it cool, not talk too much anymore. Perhaps he could let Sherlock lead. Lead what? he thought to himself, there is nowhere for him to lead you to.

Mrs. Whitton entered the room in her typical loud-mouthed form. “Where there is talking, there is no learning.” She would say before insisting they all be quiet and direct their attention towards her. She briefed the class on the significance of today’s lab before instructing them to pair up with their partners and get to work. John’s body temperature rose at the word ‘partners’ in the same context as Sherlock.

Sherlock got up first and brought his lab book to their station, flipping to his perfectly written procedure page. “I’ll get the first half of the equipment, if you will get the second half.” John agreed and the two moved throughout the room collecting the necessary tools. When they met back at their lab station they began working. Well, Sherlock began working and John watched and pretended to look busy when their teacher passed by…which only worked for so long. 

“Mr. Watson, the point of there being two of you for the labs is so that you can work together. Next time I pass by, you better be participating, or I’ll dock your grade for the lab 50%.” Her threat only made John’s blood boil and his eyes roll. 

He bit his tongue and took a breath, “Yes ma’am. And by the way, Mr. Watson is my father.”

Mrs. Whitton rolled her eyes and walked off. When John returned his attention back to his lab partner, he saw the amused smile that played on Sherlock’s perfectly sculpted lips. He can’t remember a time he felt more validated than knowing he was the reason for that smile. “So, I hate to get in your way but I guess I need to help you… though it’s clear you don’t need any help; jeez, what step are you on?” his eyes scanned the procedures, trying to find where Sherlock may be.

“I’m- we’re about to begin part six.” He filled in data on his notebook “would you set up the burette?”

“Right, sure.” John took the pieces to assemble the equipment but was making a fool of himself trying to actually put it together. His struggle felt endless. Across the workbench Sherlock watched with secret amusement at John pretending to set up the burette, when it really looked like he was trying to unscrew the knob of the dropper from its tube.

“I’ll do it.” Sherlock reached for the instrument, putting an end to John’s suffering. 

The blonde looked down in shame at his failure as he traded the attempt off to Sherlock. Their fingers brushed in passing and it was as if he had touched lightning. A tingle formed at the tips of his digits where they brushed Sherlock’s and worked its way up his arm. He muttered an apology for not knowing how to properly assemble the equipment, but Sherlock didn’t acknowledge it. Maybe his recent infatuation with this boy would go away if he constantly felt like a goldfish in comparison to him.

“John, will you pour some water from that bottle into the burette until I say stop.”

Say my name again. I like how you say my name. John brought himself out of his head once more and did as Sherlock asked. 

“Good, now write this number down: 47.2623 grams” Sherlock rattled off as Mrs. Whitton passed by without saying a word. 

“Where did that number need to go?” John asked, preparing to feel humiliated when Sherlock told him.

“Nowhere, I made it up. But now, actually write this down…”

John blinked several times and smiled as he figured out what Sherlock had just done. “Thank you.”

The brunette looked up momentarily before shrugging it off. The rest of the lab continued, and he and John were finished with fifteen minutes to spare. John actually enjoyed the experiment and felt he actually learned more about the concept behind it. Sherlock did most of the work and John recorded the data, but the Brit would occasionally voice an observation that added to John’s understanding of the subject. Mrs. Whitton scanned high and low for something to be wrong with their procedures or data but couldn’t find a thing. “Perhaps you will be of great help and a good influence on Mr. Watson…or perhaps he will be a hindrance to you. Would you like me to regroup you with a partner more your speed?”

Worry went through John’s eyes as he silently pleaded with God to not let him have any other partner than Sherlock.

“No. No one here is my speed- it would be useless.” Sherlock’s tone was cold but as per usual, factual. “John and I will be good for one another. He can learn from me and I can work on my teaching methods as I assist him throughout the year.” The last part was pure embellishment- he had no desire to improve any kind of teaching methods. Sherlock actually found himself offended that this woman would slide an insult like that towards John as he stood before her in the company of another student. “Besides, you had to drop back to teaching high school  
to work with people more your speed.”

John’s mouth dropped unashamedly. He fully knew Sherlock to be blunt, but this crossed the line to being downright rude and purposefully insulting. And what for? All to restore a sense of credibility to John.

Mrs. Whitton’s eyes went wide and she stumbled as she searched for something to say. “I’ll let this pass once because you’re new here, but another comment like that will land you in detention.” She stormed off back to her desk to presumably lick her wounds.

When they were out of earshot, they both broke into laughter. “Thank you, you really didn’t have to do that.”

Sherlock shook his head, wiping a bit of water from his lash line “No student should be spoken to like that from a teacher. If you want someone to learn, you don’t make them afraid of being wrong.”

John had to stop and just look at the boy standing before him. Truly wise beyond his years. He felt as if he was slowly getting to see the layers being peeled away of the boy who was Sherlock Holmes. He originally thought he was quiet, but he really isn’t- he speaks when he has something to say, but never just to be talking. He thought he was rude, but he sees it more as honesty now. Just two days ago he thought he was detached from human emotion, but he just witnessed the most flattering display of compassion.

Sherlock had sat down and was making use of the free time to begin next Monday’s assignment. John wanted to impress him by doing the same but felt insecure about trying to keep up with the genius next to him. So instead he scrolled through his phone. It was only when he saw Sherlock withdraw a sleek, black case from his pocket that he felt the need to speak again. “You got your phone?” 

Sherlock nodded but didn’t look up from his calculation, until suddenly his fingers froze; hovering over the keyboard. “Right, I didn’t get to exchange numbers with you last class.”  
The Englishman tried his best to let the next sentence not sound as heavy as it did in his head, “I guess we should do that now?” he wasn’t entirely sure if he was making a statement or, in some way, asking permission to have John’s number.

John slid his unlocked phone on the table to him, and Sherlock passed his over to the shorter boy. They had just finished adding their respective contacts to one another’s phone when the bell rang to dismiss them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi sweet readers! I hope you all are having a great week! Please let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow me on twitter for updates @OhHeyyItsAnna
> 
> THIS UPDATE WAS MADE MARCH 4,2021- This story now has a playlist of songs that will coordinate with the titled chapters. This is NOT the kind of playlist you should listen to WHILE YOU READ! In my opinion, the songs will be the most impactful after you have read the chapters. The playlist will help give you a deeper insight to the characters emotions and occasionally coincides with details of the chapters. 
> 
> Playlist for chapters 1 (Beginnings) and 2 (Baskets and Burettes): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hU0nP9dcI_w&list=PLG0SYRVliS1ggRGT5xqDFp1kEm44MbJ7e 
> 
> This playlist is giving you an insight to Johns life, an idea of his hometown, his family, and outlook for the future. It also gives readers a glimpse into the bond shared between John and his father


	4. I Think I Fell In Love Today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is having a great week! Any and all comments are appreciated! Stay safe and healthy.  
> Lots of love,  
> Anna
> 
> Keep up with me on twitter: @OhHeyyItsAnna

The next few weeks seemed to be a haze of repetition. For Sherlock it meant school, homework, violin practice, talking with Molly, and whatever research he may have been conducting at the moment. John’s days were filled with early morning workouts, school, homework, farm work and Mary. But between their divided lives was one they shared together. Well, really, this whole other life was their first period chemistry class. An hour and fifteen minutes, three times a week, that felt so incredibly different from the rest of the events in time and space. Seventy-five minutes that produced moments each boy would replay in their head for hours afterwards. 

John was, of course, still bathing in denial that he had any feelings that weren’t just platonic for Sherlock at all. He realized not long ago he had yet to mention his name to any of his other friends. It was almost as if he never wanted his name to cross anyone’s lips but his own. Though John may have never spoken his name, his lab partner seemed to never leave his mind - much to the frustration of his inner straight jock. Scenes from chem class played on repeat like a film reel in his mind. Any touch of skin, any smile in his direction, any inside jokes or moments that gave him butterflies were stored in his memory for the moments he could afford to watch through them. These moments usually happened on his drive back from school, while he was doing farm work, or - most often - as he was drifting off to sleep.

Sherlock, rational as he was, knew deep within him he was hopelessly falling for his lab partner. Much like John, he had saved some of his favorite moments they had accumulated together and kept them safe in his mind palace. His crush became all too real when not long ago he deduced Molly was developing the same feelings he had for John, but for him. He was no expert in emotion, but knew he had to tell her he didn’t feel the same and then hope she would still be his friend. He almost felt guilty that he was making her feel this way. Now that he knew the rollercoaster of blissful ignorance and the harsh pain that was falling in love with someone you can’t have; he never wanted her to feel that way. The night before, Sherlock had spent over an hour trying to write out a perfect script of how to tell Molly he was not only not interested, but gay - really really gay - without making her feel bad. The conversation occurred during lunch at their high-top table by the windows. By now Molly was also well aware of his abilities to make deductions and had found them interesting but wasn’t nearly as fascinated to hear them as John was.

“Molly…” 

She paused her eating to look at him, pupils dilated, all attention directed to him.

He cleared his throat nervously, “You know how I’m able to notice things about people before they get the chance to tell me,” she nodded but stayed quiet. “Well, I know you are - no, um, okay - I have noticed something about you, and we don’t have to talk about it, but I think now would be an appropriate time to tell you…I’m gay.”

Her eyes widened a bit and she set her sandwich down, quickly taking a sip of water. “I can leave if you want me to, and we don’t ever have to speak again; I just thought you should know.” He was already packing his lunch back into its box when Molly reached across the table and grabbed his hand.

“No, no. Stay,” She smiled but was flushed red with embarrassment “Of course I still want to be your friend! You couldn’t possibly think that just because - never mind, it doesn’t bother me in the least bit. Thank you, for telling me. Honestly, Sherlock, get over yourself,” she teased “I’m more self-conscious about, well, about that thing you knew that we aren’t going to talk about, than you being gay.”

Sherlock laughed softly, “It’s all fine. I’m flattered really.”

She rolled her eyes and started unpacking his lunch for him, reiterating that nothing was going to change. “Don’t be too flattered, if your ego gets any bigger you’ll have to buy a separate plane ticket for it to go back home with you.”

The waters of their friendship that Sherlock feared would be choppy and rough, remained tranquil. He sighed a breath of relief that he was able to be himself all the while keeping his closest and only friend. He wasn’t exactly sure if he could categorize John as a friend or something entirely different. 

Molly drew him from his thoughts, “Am I the only person here that knows?”

“Yes, I’ve deduced others have suspected but no one has mentioned it.”

“Do you want me to not tell people? Not that I really have anyone to tell, but if someone asks should I say-”

“The truth. I’ve been ‘out’ back home for years; I don’t plan on changing that status just because I moved here,” He ran his teeth over his bottom lip in hesitation “Are people actually really…bigo- homophobic here?” he was working on being delicate with his words.

Molly gave a small shrug, “It’s a toss-up really. Some people don’t care, some people do. We have very few gay students, I should say openly gay students, in the school; personally, I’ve never seen anyone harass them directly. There are a lot of people, in my opinion, who won’t disapprove of you to your face but will hate you behind your back and to anyone that will listen.”

Sherlock nodded, appreciative of her honesty.

“So…” Her voice fluctuated to a higher pitch and one look had Sherlock groaning in dread of the question he knew she was about to ask, “Do you like anyone?”

Reluctantly he nodded his head. Molly excitedly clapped her hands on the table, drawing a bit of attention that left as soon as it came, “Who?! I mean you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want, but as your best friend I think it’s-”

“I’ll tell you,” He held up his hands, “Just calm down. And Molly- it CAN NOT leave your lips.”

She nodded excitedly. Just as Sherlock was opening his mouth to tell her she cut him off, “Wait, wait - can I guess?”

Sherlock gave her a questioning look “I suppose. That’s not really the most efficient way to do this but-”

“John Watson.” She smirked and Sherlock’s mouth all but hit the table.

“How did you-”

“I’m a deductive genius too,” she teased, edging another laugh from the Englishman. “No, but you light up when you talk about him, which is probably more often than you realize.”

“Do I really talk about him that much?”

“Only every time you bring up your chemistry class. Which is every day.”

“Ugh. Thank God you’re the only person I talk to or else the whole school would know by now!”

Molly giggled, “I think it’s sweet. A bit delusional but I don’t have much room to talk.”

Sherlock gave a sad smile, “So you think it’s delusional?”

Molly’s teasing attitude dropped, “Oh. No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, but, well... Popular football captain, dating the head cheerleader, not to mention third generation of the most successful farming operation in the state, doesn’t really put him high on the list of people I would guess likes boys.”

Sherlock nodded and distracted himself from the harsh truth of her words by pulling at the label of his water bottle, “No, it’s okay. I know he’s probably as straight as they come. Probably would hate me and switch classes if he ever found out I was gay.”

Molly shook her head, ponytail flipping behind her, “No, I don’t think so. John isn’t like that. I don’t know him very well, but Kate was on the cheer team with Mary; and she only ever had good things to say about him, but then again she probably wanted to sleep with him,” she laughed and so did Sherlock.

“So that’s pretty normal, people wanting to sleep with him?”

“Well don’t you?”

Sherlock mocked being offended and threw his empty water bottle at her. 

Then came the next class after their first chemistry exam. John was overcome with both dread and anticipation to see his score. He knew he didn’t know the content, but maybe, by the grace of God he was able to make a passing grade. He was nervously tapping his pencil on the desk as he scrolled through his phone, also eagerly awaiting Sherlock to walk in. When he did it was as if there were no longer any worries in his life, and for the first time since he had woken up this morning, he felt at peace. Sherlock said his usual “Good morning,” to which John always replied the same. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Something was different. There was a scent in the air he hadn’t smelled before and it was…intoxicating. It was sweet, but refreshingly clean, and in the most overpowering subtle way - it was sultry. John took another deep breath, clinging to the scent as if it was the last molecule of oxygen in a gas chamber. “Do you smell that?” he asked, only for Sherlock to raise an eyebrow and shake his head.

Mrs. Whitton began making the morning announcements and passing back the exams. “A few of you did very well, even one person managed to score a 100% - which tells me I am teaching the content appropriately and it is the student who is unwilling to learn. The class average was 71%, things will get much harder as the year progresses; so, if you’re falling behind now, I suggest you get help or drop the class.” 

She got to the back row where John and Sherlock sat, and placed John’s exam face down on the desk and did the same to Sherlock’s. John closed his eyes momentarily and turned the stapled pages over. “Shit.” 

Sherlock’s eyes flitted over to John, “Everything alright?”

John looked away as he handed the packet over to Sherlock. He couldn’t watch him as he would come to the realization that he was another stupid high school jock.

Sherlock bit his lip when he saw a dark red 32% circled at the top of John’s exam. He flipped through the pages scanning over what John got correct, since it would be easier than looking at all the questions he got wrong. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows “You got almost all the questions about the lab experiments right, so that’s something.” It was pitiful, but his best attempt at trying to make John feel better.

“Yeah, those were easy. It was all stuff you told me about during the lab,” He huffed out a sigh. “I won’t get to play football if my grade isn’t recovered by midterm.”

Sherlock ignored him, too busy looking questioningly at some of the missed questions. “John, why did you answer this correctly under the lab questions, but wrong over here? It’s the same question, just different wording.”

John leaned in closer to look at the text in question. Sherlock felt as if the air around him became hotter the closer John leaned. “I don’t know, it seems like an entirely different concept to me. It all made sense when you explained it to me in the last lab, but whenever she says it well, it’s all Greek to me.”

Sherlock didn’t dare move his hands off the top of the black desk, for fear there would be sweat if he lifted them, “I could tutor you, if you want.” Seconds felt like hours as he waited for John’s response. Oh my God, what possessed me to say that?

John looked up at him, “Yeah, yes. That would be great actually, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

He shrugged, “I’ve really got nothing better to do,” He really couldn’t think of anything better to do than spend time with John.

“Thanks, man. You’re literally saving my senior year,” John held out his hand for what Sherlock thought was going to be a handshake but gasped when John pulled him in for some kind of chest bump/hug/handshake that Sherlock flailed his way through. God, he must have looked stupid. John laughed, but not in a way that made Sherlock feel bad. There was fondness in his laughter.

Sherlock couldn’t wait to tell Molly, but they made a pact to never discuss John inside of school; it was just too risky. When chemistry ended, he rushed to English class, taking his seat next to Molly.

“Whoa, calm down we still have eight minutes until class starts.” 

“I have news, big news. Can you come over tonight?”

Molly giggled, happy to see him so excited. Before she could answer a voice came from the back corner, “What did you see a totally fabulous scarf on sale?” The voice belonged to Jim, who, for some reason, had made it his life’s mission to try and humiliate Sherlock whenever the opportunity presented itself. Sherlock always ignored it, but it was getting harder for Molly not to fire back at him. She bit her tongue once more for Sherlock’s sake.

“Yes, I’d love to. What time?”

Sherlock’s excited demeanor was now deflated, and he was back to staring at his desk, head hung slightly, and keeping his voice low, “6 if you want dinner, 7:30-ish if you don’t. My dad is making lasagna.”

“I’ll be there at 6,” She leaned her head sympathetically on his shoulder.

When Sherlock finally told her the news, she shrieked so loud he worried his aquarium glass might shatter. “So, Mr. Detective, tell me - what do your powers of deduction say about John Watson’s feelings towards you?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but then steepled his fingers beneath his chin in deep thought. He sighed, “I don’t know, Molly. I think I know he is just being nice, and that we are ‘acquaintances’…but sometimes,” he took a shallow breath “Sometimes he looks at me and I feel like there is something there. Like he’s looking at me, the way I look at him.”

Molly held a hand over her heart and gave him a closed mouth smile.

Sherlock was brushing his teeth, getting ready for bed when he heard his phone ding on his bedside table. He assumed it was Molly and didn’t hurry to reply. It had been several minutes before he picked up the device. A little green text icon next to the name ‘John Watson’ illuminated his screen. His body froze but his heart raced inside him. He finally slid up the screen to read the message.

“Hey, Sherlock. It’s John from chemistry.” 

He rolled his eyes as if he didn’t know exactly which John it would be. 

“I was wondering if you were still interested in tutoring me and what day and time would be good for you. No pressure if you’ve changed your mind.” 

Of course he hadn’t changed his mind. It’s all that had been on his mind since he had made the leap of faith to ask that question.

Sherlock mulled over the right wording, “Yeah I’m down” sounded…well not like him. “I’m very interested” sounded suggestive, if not sleazy. “I’d be more than happy to tutor you” was too Molly. This shouldn’t be that difficult, just reply.

“Hello. I’m sure your schedule is much busier than mine. What day and time works best for you? -SH”

Just as he could let out a breath of relief a reply came back.

“Football starts up soon, so that cancels out directly after school for me. I should be free after practices though, around 5? My house or yours?” 

John smiled at the ‘SH’, odd but fitting for Sherlock.

As badly as Sherlock wanted to see John’s home, meet his family, and be surrounded by things that made John who he was - he worried he may not be able to focus being sat in John’s bedroom. How could he possibly teach John chemistry when all he could do was stare at his bed and wish John would - no, we are stopping that thought right there.

“We can alternate but perhaps mine would be best the first few times, since most of my chemistry supplies are here. -SH”

“Sounds good. Chemistry supplies? So, you’re not just good at chemistry, it’s a hobby of yours?”

Was he really trying to hold a conversation? He could have ended it at ‘sounds good.’ But no, he’s asking questions about his interests.

“Yes, I find it very interesting. -SH”

“You’ll have to show me some of your stuff when I come over.”

John knew the wording was awkward, but he wasn’t ready to stop texting Sherlock yet.

“How often do you want to meet up? -SH”

Everyday, John thought. 

“Would twice a week be too much? maybe extra on exam weeks? Wednesday and Fridays work best for me.”

Sherlock’s stomach filled with butterflies ‘no, I could never get too much of you.’ He wanted to say but opted for “That’s all fine. See you Friday? -SH”

“See you then.”

Sherlock put his phone back on the table, prepared not to look at it until morning when he shut off his alarm; but then came another ding.

“Goodnight, Sherlock.” 

He had to blink several times to make sure it wasn’t from Molly, or his mom who was out late at the lab. It really was from John. There was something about wishing another person a good night that felt oddly intimate, like it was something done amongst those you spent time with and cared a great deal about. The simple fact he added his name too made it feel all the more personal.

“Goodnight, John. -SH” 

Friday was only two sleeps away.

The next day Sherlock was helping his parents put away some of the newly emptied moving boxes when it occurred to him that he should have checked in with them before inviting John to their house. He prayed to whatever god would listen that they would keep the teasing to a minimum.

“Mum.”

“Yes, love?”

“I’ve offered to tutor someone in chemistry, would it be alright if they came here Friday?”

His mother and father both shared a look between the two, which Sherlock pretended not to see. “Sure, who is it?”

Okay, deep breath, steady your voice. “John.”

“Oh?” Her voice inflected. “He needs some help, does he?”

“He got a 32 on the 1st exam… Yeah I'd say he needs help.”

His dad grimaced at the test score, “Well, I can't think of anyone better to help him.”

And just like that, the discussion was over. He felt sure his parents would antagonize him about John. Before he retreated to his room his dad called out, “Oh, Sherlock, the door to your room stays open while John is here tomorrow.” 

His mother giggled but he did not. A red flush took over his cheeks and he groaned in embarrassment.

On Friday morning, John said bye to Sherlock with an optimistic, “See you this afternoon!” It sent chills up Sherlock’s spine and butterflies into his stomach. As it neared closer to 5, John brushed his fingers through his hair and tugged at his clothes repeatedly. Sherlock had already seen him today but all of a sudden he felt like he looked disheveled, maybe it was because that's how he felt. He sighed and grabbed his backpack off the living room couch.

“Where are you off to?” his dad asked, coming in from outside.

“Just down the road, I need some help with chemistry if I want to stay on the team - assuming I make the team that is - so I got a tutor,” He thought for a second. “I hope that's alright.” it came out as more of a question.

“Yeah, yeah, of course - get help when you need it. It's a mature thing to do, John. Do you need some money to pay..?”

“Sherlock. And, um, I don't know; we didn't actually talk about that,” John now felt worried about if he was supposed to pay Sherlock. He certainly didn't expect anything for free, but the thought of payment slipped his mind when he was caught up in the prospect of spending time alone with the Englishman.

“Sherlock? Odd name.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought too. He's actually the son of the family that just moved down the road; the one mom sent the basket to.”

“The ones from England?”

John nodded.

His dad reached for his wallet and handed over some bills, “Surely it won't be more than that.” He laughed and clapped John on the shoulder.

John pulled himself into his truck and drove the short few miles down the road. Meanwhile, Sherlock was anxiously fixing his hair in the downstairs bathroom awaiting the sound of the doorbell. Finally, it sounded.

“John, so good to see you again!” How could his mom have possibly beat him to the door? He lingered behind his mother as if he was a scared child while they made small talk. “I'll leave you two to your studies.”

John flashed a smile in Sherlock's direction, “Hey.”

“Hey,” they stood awkwardly. “So, um, I thought we could start by going over your exam. I don't want to try and teach you a new concept if you don't understand the past ones.” Sherlock began walking up the stairs toward his room, a silent invitation for John to follow him. 

“Sounds good.” they entered Sherlock's room and there it was. That same intoxicating, sweet, sultry, smell from chemistry class. It was him. A deep breath in, a silent plea for the scent to burn itself into his memory. Sherlock's room was immaculately put together. A poster of the periodic table hung on the wall above his bed. John smiled to himself. There was a microscope sat on the desk he presumed they would be working on, it looked professional - not to mention expensive. It was obvious Sherlock had a deep interest in the subject. Which made John feel like an even bigger dick for bashing the subject to Sherlock's face that very first day. John smiled again and bent down to look at the little red fish in the aquarium. 

“All this stuff is so …”

“Nerdy.”  
“Fascinating.”

They spoke at the same time. Sherlock smiled toward the ground while John's face fell. “No, well, yes, but not in a bad way.”

Sherlock and John worked through his exam, going over concepts and letting John ask as many questions as he wanted. Despite Sherlock being a cocky bastard, he never once spoke to John in a condescending manner. Sherlock wrote perfectly scripted notes for John to keep and review; formulas, key concepts, and anything else he thought might be useful. As Sherlock wrote the sandy haired blonde sat back admiring him, dark curls illuminated in the evening sun that crept through his window, smooth alabaster skin that was complemented by his dark blue shirt. Black skinny jeans clung to his long legs one crossed over the other. He’s sure he had never seen him sit this way in class, it would have been a vision to remember.

“John?”

He was shaken from his thoughts. “Hmm?”

“I asked if you wanted to go over anything else. It's getting late, thought you might need to head home.”

I wish you'd never go. Sherlock thought.

“Oh, um,” John clicked his phone to check the time, “Shit. Yeah, I had no idea it had been three hours.” His mom was going to kill him for missing dinner and he still had animals to tend to. He began packing his things, delicately placing the notes Sherlock made in his binder. “How much do I owe you?”

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, “Sorry?”

“How much money do I owe you for tutoring me?”

“Oh. No - nothing. don't worry about it, seriously. It was my pleasure.” Pleasure? He hated himself.

John chuckled, “I can't just take up three hours of your time for nothing.”

Yes, yes you can. Please - take up all of my time. “No, really. You gave us the lovely basket of vegetables and such, we can figure out possible payment next time,” Sherlock dodged the subject.

A perfect smile dawned on John’s face, “Alright, you win this time. You all enjoyed the veggies?”

Sherlock nodded, “They were fantastic. I love the honey, I use it in my tea every night.”

“How very British of you,” John joked and Sherlock couldn't help but grin. 

“Maybe you can come over sometime and see the bees that made it.”

“I'd love to.” Sherlock was almost too excited about the prospect of seeing them that he nearly missed the part where John had practically invited him over. “I'll see you out.”

John thanked him once more and made his way to his truck. Once Sherlock closed the front door, he leaned his back against it and smiled with a long sigh. His father passed by, just long enough to see the love drunken look on his son’s face, before scurrying off to gossip with his wife. 

John rolled the windows down to let the evening breeze sweep through the warm cab of the truck. He turned the radio on to the same country station he kept it at. A soft female voice rang through the speakers:

“I think I fell in love today  
I'm sure he saw it on my face ‘cause  
I couldn't break my smile  
the stars weren't lined up in a row  
there was no firework show  
but in that moment, he was mine.”

The song played through all the while the vision of Sherlock leaning over his desk, legs crossed lingered in his mind. 

When John arrived back, he hesitantly walked through the screened porch door. He could hear two voices bouncing back and forth, his chest tightened knowing it was his parents arguing once again.

“You let him walk all over you-” his mother accused.

“If it was up to you, he'd never get to leave the house; Always trying to put your share of the work off on him! He’s only seventeen!” called back his dad.

“Well you certainly can't do it all, you're damn near worthless around here anymore.”

John's blood boiled, his father's decreasing ability to do physical labor was his mother's favorite stick to poke the bear with. One that certainly struck a nerve with him. “I'm home, sorry I lost track of time,” He hoped to defuse the situation.

“It's alright, son. How was the studying?”

“Good, really good actually. Sherlock taught me more in three hours than the teacher did in three weeks. We have another session next Wednesday and Friday.”

Just as his father was about to praise him, his mother interjected, “Oh, no you don't. You have responsibilities around here that-”

“His responsibility is to his schoolwork, Carolyn.”

She rolled her eyes, “He isn't going to need an A in chemistry to drive a tractor and feed the cattle, Martin.”

“Christ, stop! Both of you!” John yelled, face flushed, and fist clenched. He took a deep breath “Mom, I can get all my work done around here and still go to tutoring - don't worry about it, I'll make it work.”

“Will you? Because I know about 50 head of cattle that haven't been fed today.”

“They have grass, it’s not like they’re starv-” his father tried piping up.

“I know, and I'm sorry. I'm going to take care of them right now. This is the first session, I didn't know how it would gov- but now I do so I can work around it,” he gave an exhausted sigh, “Goodnight, I'll be back after everything's taken care of.”

He walked out the door pausing on the covered porch to slide off his sneakers and pull on his dirty work boots. He got in the ATV and loaded it with feedstuff, before going to feed the cattle. He couldn't tear his mind away from his parents bickering. It only seemed to get worse by the months. Sometimes he'd have guilt over wishing they would divorce already so he didn't have to listen to them. He would soon be 18 but no matter your age - no kid wants to listen to their parents fight. 

He knew there is more to be done than just the cows, it was dark now and he had to carefully park the ATV so that the headlight shined where he needed it the most. He went to refill the chicken’s water when he noticed the trough was gone. He saw his dad with a flashlight and the water hose cleaning it out.

“Dad, I'm sorry - you don't have-”

“No, John. I want to. You're too good of a son to me- never get mad when I can't lift things or do as much as I used to. I can clean the tub as long as you carry it,” He tried to give a reassuring smile. “So, the tutoring went well?”

John nodded and laughed a bit “I think I learned the entire first month and then some. It all makes so much sense with Sherlock.”

“That's great.” he put a hand on his son’s shoulder “You keep going to those lessons and don't worry too much about what's happening around here. It will get taken care of.”

John nodded but didn't really internalize the words. He would worry no matter what. As he showered, he thought of Sherlock’s scent and what he wouldn't give to have it fill his lungs the same way the steam was. He heard his phone ding on the sink counter. After relaxing under the hot spray for a few minutes longer he brushed his teeth, tied his towel around his hips, grabbed his phone and made his way to his room. He threw on some sweatpants and laid down. There were two texts, one from Mary and the other from Sherlock. He decided to open the latter first secretly exposing who took priority.

“I forgot to give you this note sheet. Here's a picture in case you need it for the weekend. -SH”

“Thanks! Today was great, you really helped me.”

“If you have any questions over the weekend just let me know. -SH”

“I will. Goodnight, Sherlock.”

“Goodnight, John. -SH”

He sent a quick “Goodnight, I missed you today too. I love you.” Back to Mary before closing his eyes and drifting off with myriads of long legs and curly dark hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is having a great week! Any and all comments are appreciated! Stay safe and healthy.  
> Lots of love,  
> Anna
> 
> Keep up with me on twitter: @OhHeyyItsAnna
> 
> THIS UPDATE WAS MADE MARCH 4,2021- This story now has a playlist of songs that will coordinate with the titled chapters. This is NOT the kind of playlist you should listen to WHILE YOU READ! In my opinion, the songs will be the most impactful after you have read the chapters. The playlist will help give you a deeper insight to the characters emotions and occasionally coincides with details of the chapters.
> 
> Playlist for chapter 3 (I Think I Fell In Love Today) and 4 (Football, Farmwork, and Flirtation): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GgsJm_0PlpY&list=PLG0SYRVliS1hDeRMUnP3Ju7obHvFygBrq
> 
> This playlist lets us dip our toes into the intensity of the feelings John and Sherlock have for one another. It also dives into how Sherlock feels about himself and his perception of how John may view him. And a song about football for good measure haha!


	5. Football, Farmwork, and Flirtation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY JOHNLOCK ANNIVERSARY! I hope you all like this chapter! Let me know what you think!
> 
> keep up with me on twitter: @OhHeyyItsAnna

The next week was the fateful week of football tryouts and the decision of team captain. To be able to keep up with tutoring, John was waking up and working in the barn from 4:30 AM till 6:00 AM on Wednesdays and Fridays, conditioning from 6:30 to 7:45 every day, and then a full day of schoolwork with additional tutoring two days a week. He barely had time to see friends or hang out with Mary and it was obvious she was getting frustrated.

Friday rolled around, the day of tryouts. John was exhausted. Sherlock plopped down in the seat next to him, “Didn't sleep last night?”

“Barely.” he yawned.

“Aren't tryouts today?”

John nodded. 

“Maybe you should skip a class or two to rest.”

“Can't, if you're marked absent you aren't allowed to partake in school sponsored extracurriculars that day.” John sighed but Sherlock didn't have much else to say, until- “If you want to sleep now, I'll cover for you. I'll fill out your note packet to turn in, too.”

John looked up from where his head was resting in his arms, “Really? Thank you, but I can't let you do that. Plus Mrs. Whitton will notice.”

“Trust me.” Sherlock said, taking John's note packet “take a nap.”

John felt warm and secure, wrapped in the comfort of Sherlock's words. 

  
  


At the end of the school day, Sherlock was sitting on his bench near the student parking lot. It was nearly empty, and his mom still hadn't arrived. His phone rang, “Sherlock, love, I'm so sorry I'm going to be very late picking you up. Your father and I ran into an emergency at the lab. Will you be alright for another hour or so?” Sherlock sighed in frustration but agreed he would be fine. 

“Sherlock?” Came a familiar voice from behind him. It was John walking with another boy carrying a gym bag. He gave him a small wave. “What are you still doing out here?”

“My parents are caught up at the lab, they won't be here for a while.”

“Oh. Well, if you want, I can take you home after tryouts.” John offered nervously. 

“That would be great actually, thanks.” Sherlock didn't know if his face was burning from the sun or from blushing. He sent his mom a quick text letting her know he no longer needed her to pick him up. 

“Come on down with us, you can watch the tryouts - beats watching the traffic.” the other boy spoke up, taking Sherlock by surprise. He gave a faint smile and followed them down the hill to the field, taking a seat on the bleachers- far away from where many of the players girlfriends sat; Including Mary. 

  
  


John's once tired body now felt invigorated. As if knowing Sherlock was watching gave him all the energy and strength he would need for the rigorous test of athleticism he was about to be put through. Sherlock was there. Oh, and Mary. 

Sherlock watched John intensely, desperate not to lose track of him on the field. He knew absolutely nothing about how to evaluate the success of the American game, but he personally thought John looked the best of anyone out there. He sat alone while in the next section over, Mary was giggling with some of her friends. 

  
  


The herd of athletes finally left the field to retreat to the locker room and Sherlock made his way off the bleachers and down to the pavement where the team would let out. He stood to the side and watched as the girls fluttered around their boyfriends. And then came John. Mary rushed up to him, throwing her arms around his neck, going in for a kiss. But he turned his head and dodged it letting it land on his cheek. 

John recognized it the same as Sherlock, why had he turned away from Mary? As if to make up for it he sat her down, wrapped a strong arm around her waist before dipping her backwards- kissing her as passionately as he could, without there actually being any passion. Sherlock thought he heard his heart crack.

“Hey Sherlock, come to check out the guys?” Jim's voice rang loudly through the crowd and nearly everyone turned to look at him. Sherlock just scowled in disgust. 

“Is there a problem, Jim?” John's voice got louder as he stepped toward the two.

“Not really, just some f** showed up to watch our tryouts.”

Sherlock visibly shuddered. It had been a very long time since he had heard that word. Let alone heard somebody direct it toward him.

“I invited him.” John seethed getting in Jim's face “and on this team, we don't talk about people that way! Are we clear?!”

Jim scoffed and walked off. All eyes were still bouncing between him and John. A few more seconds of silence and people went back to their previous chatter. John was walking toward Sherlock when Mary grabbed his arm, well within hearing distance of the raven-haired boy.

“Let's get dinner, celebrate a job well done!” She said happily, only for her smile to fall with John's response. 

“I can't, I have tutoring. How about tomorrow?”

She sighed, “Yeah what's one more date to blow off.”

“Mary, I'm not-”

“It's fine, John. Just go, we’ll talk later.” She gave him a chaste kiss and left. John knew he should have felt bad, but he didn't. In fact, he didn't feel anything watching her walk away from him.

“Ready?” John asked, and Sherlock followed knowing they were probably about to have the conversation he dreaded on the ride home. 

  
  


John tossed his stuff in the back seat before briskly jogging to the passenger side of his truck where Sherlock was getting in. The dark-haired boy looked down at him, confused. 

“Ah, sorry. I usually have to help Mary in, but I see you don't need it.” he laughed it off, but his cheeks flushed red.

“She doesn't either.” he mumbled as John walked around to take his own seat.

“Sorry, I probably smell awful. Mind if I shower and change before we head back to your place?”

Sherlock's breath caught in his throat “That's fine.”

“So… Jim?”

Sherlock sighed and looked out the window as some country ballad played softly in the background. 

“Does he give you a lot of trouble?”

“From time to time in my English class. He never bothers me in history class or anywhere else though. Well, until today.”

John hummed in acknowledgement before making a connection, “Jim is in my history class. Are you?” Sherlock nodded. “Wow, shows how observant I am.”

It was quiet for a few minutes. Before John gathered all the courage he had “so… do you- are you…”

“a fa-.”

“Gay?” John almost hit the brakes. The word burned like acid in his ears. “Don’t say that. It’s an awful word.”

“Yes, John, I’m gay.” Sherlock wanted to cry. He shifted his body towards the door of the truck, hoping it may come open and he would fall out and be relieved of his misery. John probably wanted him out of his truck anyway. 

“Oh, alright.” John turned the music up a little louder. This just made things even harder for John.

They didn't talk the rest of the way and Sherlock fully expected for John to take him directly home and cancel on their tutoring entirely. But he didn't. He drove up the gravel drive and Sherlock sat up in his seat, watching the beautiful scenery. John put the truck in park and grabbed his stuff from the back. Sherlock remained in the cab until John opened the door with a confused look.

“Coming?”

“I thought you might prefer if I waited out here.”

“Why would I-” the realization struck him, and he laughed softly “It's fine, Sherlock. It's all fine. Come on.” It was more than fine, really. John was internally rejoicing to have found out this information, maybe now he stood a chance at earning the Brits affection.

  
  


Sherlock cracked a smile and his eyes lit up when he saw John's outstretched hand. He placed his own into John’s and let him help lower him to the ground. He breathed out a small thank you. John’s house was similar to how Sherlock had envisioned it. Family pictures, quotes that could only be described as Southern, and tasteful images of different animals. John kicked off his shoes by the door and Sherlock did the same. 

“Doesn't look like anyone else is home.” John opened the fridge and passed Sherlock a water before motioning for him to follow him upstairs to his room.

“I'll try to be quick.”

“No rush.” Sherlock stood awkwardly in the center of John's bedroom. “If you want to spend some time at home, we can do your tutoring here today.”

“Yeah, actually, it would be great to stay in one place for a while.” He smiled sadly. “Make yourself at home.” And with that he closed the adjoining bathroom door and turned on the tap.

Sherlock walked around the room. Everything was so…John.  _ It’s HIS room, stupid. _ He waved away his inner genius- letting himself appreciate the room for what it is. The walls were a light grey that contrasted with the dark grey comforter that covered his bed. There was a large bookshelf that had a cut out for a desk where his computer resided. Sherlock traced the spine of a few books with his finger, reading over the titles. Many were classics- ones he knew Americans commonly read for school. Others were related to crop growth, football, and livestock animals. The shelves held framed photos. A few of John as a little boy, one in particular caught Sherlock’s eye: A 5 or 6-year-old John sitting in the grass with another boy, they were holding hands. He rolled his eyes at himself,  _ what a reach, Sherlock. Small children hold hands all the time. It doesn't mean he’s secretly gay. _ The last picture he looked at was one of Mary and John dressed to the nines, wearing a King and Queen sash for their homecoming dance last year. 

Sherlock stared at John's bed, wondering if he should sit down. It would be strange to still be standing in the middle of the room when John came out of the shower. It also might be the only chance he ever gets to be in his bed. He sits down gently before lying back and letting his senses be overwhelmed with John: John’s scent wrapped around him, head resting in the same bed John’s did… It was a moment of euphoria. He reached into his pocket, taking out his phone.

“Hey mum, I'm tutoring John at his place tonight. I'll be home a little bit later- not sure when yet. -SH” 

“We are on our way back to the house, finally. Enjoy yourself, and make good choices  ☺ ”

He rolled his eyes and scrolled through his social media, waiting for John to finish his shower. 

John let his hand wander dangerously low as he massaged his body wash into his skin. He knew it would be entirely wrong to do  _ THAT _ with Sherlock less than 15 feet away. It would be wrong to think about him while he did  _ THAT _ at all. Another wave of exhaustion hit, and he fought not to let his eyes close for too long. When he stepped out of the shower, he realized he hadn't grabbed his change of clothes; he was so used to just walking into his room to change. He groaned to himself, this is going to look like a put-up job. The same day he finds out Sherlock is gay, and they are alone in his house, he's going to walk out with just a towel tight around his hips. But it was that or stay in the bathroom forever. 

He exits the bathroom “Sorry, I forgot to bring my clothes in.”

Sherlock had sat back up right on the bed and was looking at his phone or had been until John opened the door. Now, he was staring at John’s defined abs and toned figure.  _ Stop staring. _ He looked back down into his phone, “No worries.”

John put on a pair of track pants and a white shirt that clung to his biceps.  _ What would it feel like to have those hold him? _ John sat cross legged on the bed and Sherlock took it as his cue to do the same. He faced John pulling out flash cards he had made for them to go over definitions. Not long after they began, John had his elbow resting on his leg and his hand cradling the side of his face. His eyelids looked heavy. Sherlock had all the flash cards memorized; he didn't need to flip through them- it was just purely for show. He moved the cards but watched John whose eyes had now shut completely. 

“John…” no reply 

“John…” Sherlock reached out and touched his knee, jolting him awake. “Sorry.”

“no, no. It's fine. God, I'm so sorry, I'm really tired.”

“It's alright. We can just pick up where we left off when we meet up on Wednesday.” Sherlock began repacking his bag. John felt defeated, he didn't want Sherlock to go. 

“No, it's fine. I can do it.”

“John,” Sherlock sighed “You're obviously exhausted. You won't even be able to remember what we go over while you're in a state like this.”

John finally gave in and nodded. “Ugh, I still have chores to do.”

Sherlock chewed the inside of his cheek “I could help you, if you want.”

John smiled, “What do you know about caring for livestock animals? “

“Not a thing.”

They both laughed. “It's alright, I don't want you getting hurt anyway...I wouldn't mind the company though.”

Sherlock's heart jumped, “Sure.”

John forgoes using the ATV since he didn’t need to go out into the fields tonight. Instead they drove his truck to the main barn and parked. John flipped on the lights that lined the barn aisle and Sherlock looked at the stall doors that ran along the path. Every other stall had a horse in it, all different colors and sizes. He’d only seen horses from a distance, never touched one or had the opportunity to observe it up-close. John smiled fondly at Sherlock’s expression. “Only the first four on the left are ours, the rest are ones we let people board.” Sherlock nodded in understanding. “They need to be fed and their water refilled. I’ll go inside with them to feed them, but if you could stick the water hose through the outside bars and refill their water I would really appreciate it.”

Sherlock unwound the hose from where it was coiled around itself and began doing as John asked. He would scoop different feed from large metal bins and pour it into the feed buckets on the inside. Afterwards, he would put a check mark next to that horse’s name on the white board and repeat it until they had all been fed. Sherlock watched as two of the barn cats wrestled with one another, making him smile in amusement. He rolled the hose back up “Anything else I can do?”

“Nothing I can think of right now.” John called from the end of the aisle.

Sherlock tentatively walked up to one of the horses whose head was leaning over the cut out. It was so much taller than what Sherlock expected. It was a spotted grey and white color with a large white blaze down its face. He couldn’t know for sure, but he had a feeling this horse belonged to John. He hesitated, reaching his hand out to place it on the horse’s nose. It was incredibly soft, and the large animal seemed to lean into his touch. Sherlock grew more confident and pet the horse on the neck as he stood out to the side. 

John came up beside him, also reaching out to pet the beast. “This is Major, I’ve had him since I was nine. Which makes him almost twenty-three.”

“He’s beautiful.”

John laughed making Sherlock blush, “Yeah, he knows it too. Cocky son of a bitch.”

Sherlock cringed at John’s use of the word but didn’t comment.

The last little bit of sun was sinking on the horizon. Sherlock followed John over to a field with even more horses in it, explaining how these were show horses and only got turned out to pasture at night so as to not be bleached by the sun. The blonde picked up flakes of hay and tossed them over the fence in different places for the horses to eat. They did a few more small tasks before there was no trace of sun left in the sky. 

“Guess I should get you back home.” John began walking to the truck, Sherlock on his right side. “Thanks for helping me out. Sorry to drag you out here for nothing.”

Sherlock shook his head, “No, I enjoyed it. When will you know if you made the team?”

“Find out first thing Monday morning, so if I’m not in chem- I’m probably licking my wounds at home.”

Sherlock laughed, “You’ll make it, I’m sure.”

John hummed along to the radio until he pulled into Sherlock's driveway. They both looked over, staring at each other for something to say. John's tongue darted out to moisten his lips and he began to slowly move his hand up to Sherlock’s face. 

Oh my God. Was this really about to happen. Was John about to kiss him? His first kiss. Sherlock's breathing became shallow and he leaned a tiny bit closer. John touched his hair and then pulled back, holding what looks like dry grass…it was a piece of hay. He smiled and Sherlock did the same, sighing in both relief and disappointment. He had to call Molly as soon as he got inside, he was honestly worried she might not be able to handle the excitement of his day. 

“Thanks again. I'll see you Monday?”

Sherlock nodded, “Thanks for taking me home. See you then.” He opened the door and began to step out. 

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

Deep breath in. “Goodnight, John.”

He fumbled with his key to unlock the front door, John waiting until he got inside to pull off. Sherlock's parents peered around the threshold of the living room; ridiculously large smiles adorned their faces. 

“No.” Sherlock said only half serious before attempting to climb the stairs to his room.”

“Absolutely not, young man. Tell us about your night, how's John?”

“John is fine and still dating Mary, since that's what you're really wanting to know.”

“So why are you out so late?”

“His football tryouts didn't end until 6, then we went back to his place to work on chemistry, and then he had chores to complete so I offered to help.”

Their brows raised, “You did chores around the farm?” A soft giggle.

“Alright, well as long as you had a good time.” His dad teased.

“You do like this boy don't you, Sherlock?” His mother’s tone was gentle. He nodded his head and she raised from her spot in his father's lap and hugged him, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. They said their good nights and he scurried off to call Molly. 

She picked up on the first ring and squealed periodically throughout the duration of his recounting of the day. When he came to the part where he thought John was going to kiss him, she insisted with all she was worth she was now convinced he had feelings for Sherlock.

Sherlock woke up to a text Monday morning.

“I made the team!” 

“Congratulations, I knew you would. -SH”

August slipped away and summer faded to fall. Tutoring progressed as usual and it became a normal routine for Sherlock to help John with his chores so that he could avoid being up at ungodly hours of the morning. It was the day before their next chemistry exam- a Thursday, which means John didn't see Sherlock unless it was just in passing. He had been working hard but felt sick thinking about what might happen if he didn't do well on this exam. When the last class of the day rolled around and he still hadn't seen Sherlock he decided to send him a quick text.

“Hey, I'm so nervous for the exam tomorrow morning.” He sent it and tapped his finger on the desk before sending another one.  “Have anytime to squeeze in a few extra hours with me?”

Little did John know Sherlock's classroom was just across the hallway. He read the message and smiled as he thought to himself  _ I always have time for you John. _

He and the southerner had grown closer, mostly during the hour or so that Sherlock stuck around to help John around the farm- it was a good time to talk about their lives outside of classwork. 

“Sure, my place or yours?-SH”

“Mine if you don't mind. Want to ride home with me?”

“Please. I'll meet you in the hallway.-SH” 

  
  


Sherlock let his parents know the plan and that he had no idea what time John would bring him home. His parents were rational and trusted Sherlock, telling him that they wouldn't worry and would assume that if they didn't hear from him everything was alright. It didn't hurt that they had come to adore John and his southern charm. Sherlock was sure if his mother was his age and unmarried, she'd be his competition.

Sherlock found John in the busy hallway. He was casually leaning against the wall standing uncomfortably close to Mary. Well, it was uncomfortable for Sherlock to see him that close to Mary. John's eyes lit up when he saw Sherlock and for a split second, he thought he saw Mary recognize it too.

“Hey, ready to go?” John asked and Sherlock nodded. “Babe, have you met my friend and chemistry tutor, Sherlock?”

Friend? This was the first time John had ever put a label on what they had. He felt unabashedly privileged to have John call him his friend.

“No, I don't believe so. Hi, I'm John's girlfriend, Mary.” She held out her hand and Sherlock reluctantly shook it. “I think I saw you at the tryouts but didn't get a chance to introduce myself.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you.” Sherlock faked a smile and thought to himself,  _ no it's not. _ She just smiled and nodded.

“Well, we better head out. We- I have a lot of studying to do before the exam tomorrow morning.” John tried to kiss her quickly and keep it to a minimum, but she grabbed the back of his head, holding him in place and drawing the kiss out for as long as she could. It felt possessive and Sherlock couldn't help but wonder if it was directed at him. Sherlock looked in the opposite direction. When he glanced back the snog fest was over and the look on John's face was one of pure confusion. “Right. Okay. I'll call you later.” He mumbled before he and Sherlock made their way to his truck. He was glad he had the week off football for midterms, it gave him time to catch up on his social life and look forward to fall break. 

Sherlock climbed in the cab and laughed as John sped through the parking lot, trying to make it to the line before everyone else. Once they had come to a standstill in the traffic, he put his seat belt on and turned the radio up, just enough to provide background noise. “So, what are your plans for the break?”

“I might work on a new research project I've wanted to start, play my violin, maybe compose a bit.” Sherlock shrugged.

John looked at him intently, “You play the violin?”

Sherlock nodded.

“I didn't know that. Will you play for me sometime?”

_ Yes, John. I'll play for you anytime you want _ . “Maybe.” The response was casual yet teasing.

“Um,” John cleared his throat “Just so you know, we can hang out besides just for tutoring, if you want to, sometimes.”

Sherlock couldn't hide a smile, “Alright. Maybe I'll text you over the break. So... We're friends?”

John's heart began to beat a little faster, what did he mean? Did he think they were more than friends? Had John led him on? “What did you think we were?” He hoped his tone didn't sound accusatory.

Sherlock shrugged, “I thought I was just your chemistry tutor.”

John threw his head back, laughing in relief. “No, of course we are friends.” Sherlock giggled next to him. God he was adorable sometimes. All the time, but right here, right now- John wished he could freeze time. “Tell you what,  _ friend _ . I'm having a bonfire on Monday next week with some of my other friends. Why don't you come?”

Sherlock retreated a bit, “I'm not sure that's a good idea. Your friends don't know me, I don't know them. I doubt we'd get along very well.”

“I'll be there.”

“Yes, but as the host you will be interacting with everyone. It won't be like when we go to feed the horses and I'm the only person to talk to.”

“Bring someone with you.”

“Like a date?” Sherlock questioned.

John gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter, he hadn't expected that question. The thought of Sherlock with a date made the hair on his arm stand up. “If you want, do you have one?”

Sherlock shook his head, “No, I just wasn't sure what you meant.”

John exhaled in relief. He shouldn't have had any reason to be relieved, Sherlock's romantic life was really none of his business. “What about Molly Hooper? You all seem close.”

“We are.”

“But not your girlfriend?”

“Still gay.” They both laughed breathily.

“Right. So bring her anyway, it'll be fun.”

“Alright, I'll come.” The event was four days away and Sherlock was already nervous.

John smiled widely as they finally pulled out of the school parking lot and onto the main road. “So, since you're not dating Molly- have any guys you're interested in?” John felt awkward asking and he could tell by the dumb struck look on Sherlock's face so did he. He was prying and he knew it. Prying for his own personal gain, but it could also lead to his destruction if he didn't like the answer.

“I am  _ not  _ discussing boys with you, John.”

He laughed, “And why not? Isn’t that what friends do?”

Sherlock wasn't really that amused, truthfully, he felt downright uncomfortable. “I know you don't actually want to hear me talk about what guys I may or may not be interested in. It's not the same as you talking with Greg about girls.”

_ Oh Sherlock, if only you knew how much I wanted to hear you talk about it _ . A thought that lingered in John's mind since the very first day he found out Sherlock was openly gay made itself present once more in his mind and was clawing its way out of his throat. “Can I say something, and if it comes out wrong, promise you won't hold it against me?”

Sherlock looked nervous but nodded. 

John took a breath, “I think you are more uncomfortable about me knowing that you are gay, than I actually  _ am _ about you  _ being _ gay.” Sherlock looked at him, blinking, that's definitely not what he expected John to say. “Because I'm gonna be honest Sherlock, and I've been honest since you told me, it's all fine. You don't ever have to censor yourself around me. If you want to talk about how far you can deepthroat-”

“Oh my God! We are  _ not _ having this conversation.” Sherlock shrieked in a higher pitched voice than usual as he hid his face in his hands. He was laughing which made John smile in relief that he hadn't misspoke or created some kind of awkward tension between them.

“Alright; So we don't have to talk about  _ that _ , but seriously- it's all fine.”

“Thank you, John. It…it means a lot. And you're right. I am more scared about making you uncomfortable.”

John pulled into the driveway and got out, meeting Sherlock on the other side. “I'm definitely not scared of you, Sherlock. Not physically anyway, mentally you could tear me to shreds, but physically…” John picked him up, throwing him over his shoulder and Sherlock flailed in a pathetic attempt to get down. Sherlock may have been slightly taller than the American, but John definitely had the upper hand when it came to strength. John was laughing hysterically as he placed him back on the ground. “We're good?”

Sherlock couldn't fight his smile, “Yes, yes now we need to make you good at chemistry.”

John mocked being offended. He grabbed some drinks and snacks and they retreated to his room. A few hours of studying, doing chores, and one pizza delivery later; John and Sherlock were sitting on the living room couch, exhausted. Sherlock was trying for the millionth time to explain limiting reagents to John, who only half understood it. John was tired, but not as much as Sherlock, whose eyes were slowly closing before reopening again. John made the mistake of resting his eyes for a few minutes.

Those few minutes turned into a few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY JOHNLOCK ANNIVERSARY! I hope you all like this chapter! Let me know what you think!
> 
> keep up with me on twitter: @OhHeyyItsAnna
> 
> THIS UPDATE WAS MADE MARCH 4,2021- This story now has a playlist of songs that will coordinate with the titled chapters. This is NOT the kind of playlist you should listen to WHILE YOU READ! In my opinion, the songs will be the most impactful after you have read the chapters. The playlist will help give you a deeper insight to the characters emotions and occasionally coincides with details of the chapters.
> 
> Playlist for chapter 3 (I Think I Fell In Love Today) and 4 (Football, Farmwork, and Flirtation): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GgsJm_0PlpY&list=PLG0SYRVliS1hDeRMUnP3Ju7obHvFygBrq
> 
> This playlist lets us dip our toes into the intensity of the feelings John and Sherlock have for one another. It also dives into how Sherlock feels about himself and his perception of how John may view him. And a song about football for good measure haha!


	6. Heating Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday, friends! I hope you all have had a good week so far and that you enjoy this chapter! Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think, comments always help fuel me! Stay safe and healthy!
> 
> Keep up with me on Twitter: @OhHeyyItsAnna

John awoke confused, in a half-seated half-lying down position. He wasn't in his room and there was something heavy on his lap. He looked down as a kaleidoscope of memories came rushing back. There, in his lap, was a dark mop of curls - fast asleep. He was undoubtedly freaked out. But he was also fonding over the figure below him. He took several minutes just to stare at Sherlock. He never thought of a man as beautiful before. Handsome, sure. And Sherlock was handsome, but he really was the embodiment of the word beautiful. He checked his phone. There were 16 texts from Mary, and two from Greg, but most concerningly three voicemails from a number he didn't recognize. He opened his phone and pressed it to his ear to listen to them.

“Hey John, this is Mrs. Holmes - Sherlock’s mom-”  _ FUCK!  _ He listened some more “It's getting late and Sherlock hasn't answered his phone. Tell him to text me please, I hope the studying is going well.”

He clicked on the next message “John, it's nearly midnight, are you all okay? Call me.” There was panic in her voice. It was 4:00 AM and the sun hadn't even thought about coming up yet. He shook Sherlock hard and immediately dialed back the number. It rang and went to voicemail. He hung up and called again, Sherlock stirred in his lap. Finally, the line picked up. 

“Hello?” The voice was groggy.

“This is John Watson; I am so incredibly sorry. Sherlock is fine, we fell asleep studying and I just now got your messages. I am so, so sorry-” John was speaking so fast it was a miracle Mrs. Holmes understood a word he was saying.

“John, calm down. I called your house and got ahold of your dad; he filled me in on what was going on.”

“I'll have him home in a few minutes.”

“Don't worry about it. I just wanted to know you too were safe - I was pretty worried for a bit there. Just tell him to call me when he wakes up, I'll pick him up for school.”

“Will do. Again - I'm so sorry ma'am.”

“That’s alright, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Holmes.”

Sherlock had barely regained consciousness; certainly not enough to talk yet. John debated whether or not to let him go back to sleep or fully wake him to tell him what had just happened. He decided since Sherlock's parents knew he was alright it would be safe to let him sleep. “It's okay, go back to sleep,” he whispered comfortingly.

Sherlock exhaled a long breath. What John didn't expect was for him to reposition further up his body so that his head came to rest on the Americans chest.  _ Push him off, John. Push. Him. Off. _ He knew that's what he should do, but it wasn't what he wanted. He let the internal conflict continue until he couldn't take it and had to make a decision... He draped an arm over Sherlock's back and closed his eyes. He knew this was who he always wanted to fall asleep next to.

Sherlock's eyes opened as he searched for his phone to shut off the blaring alarm. He came to his senses, seeing John beneath him and moved off of the older boy as if he had been struck by Zeus himself.

John woke up startled, “Wh-what's happened, what's wrong?”

Sherlock ran hand over his face, “We fell asleep. Oh my God, my parents-” He panicked. 

“Hey, hey,” John reached for the other boy’s flailing arms. “I talked to your mom. Everything is okay. They were worried but got in contact with my dad. They know you're safe.”

Sherlock breathes a sigh of relief. 

“I'm sorry for falling asleep. And for falling asleep on you.”

“Oh,  _ that _ . It's fine, dude. We were both tired.” John felt sick with himself. Sherlock was standing before him blaming himself for falling asleep on top of him, not knowing that John had practically ensured he stayed there.

Sherlock nodded. “Mind taking me home so I can at least change clothes?” How was John remaining so nonchalant?  _ Because he isn't into you like that, stupid. _

The drive home was quiet, but not particularly awkward. “I'll see you in a bit.” John said as Sherlock jumped down from the truck. 

  
  


His mom was at the kitchen table working on her laptop and sipping her tea. She stood immediately when Sherlock came in, wrapping him in a hug, “You scared me.”

“You said if you didn't hear from me you would assume everything was fine.”

“That doesn't mean not letting me know you aren't coming home for the night.”

Sherlock knew this but was trying to displace the guilt he felt for worrying his parents, “I'm sorry.”

She just sighed and rested her head near his shoulder. “So, you spent the night at John’s…” It wasn't a question and there was no playfulness in her voice.

“So I did.” He pulled away from the hug “I'm sorry. Chemistry, pizza, and passing out on the couch isn't as scandalous as what you might have been hoping.”

She rolled her eyes, “Go get ready for school, we have to leave soon. And come back down with a better attitude.”

  
  


John was looking over his notes for the exam when Sherlock took the seat next to him, still looking a bit disheveled. “Short night?” John asked sarcastically and they both laughed, earning a glare from Mrs. Whitton.

“How are you feeling about the exam?”

“Good, I think. Still a little unsure about limiting reagents.”

“Just remember the steps we talked about and it will be fine. And for the love of everything that is good, remember to balance your equation before you do anything.”

Sherlock was first to finish his exam and began making notes for the next unit. John finished with 15 or so minutes to spare. The bell sounded to dismiss them. “So?” Sherlock asked.

“I certainly did better than the first exam.”

“Mmmm, I'd hope so.”

John bumped his shoulder in response to the snarky comment. “So, I'll see you Monday or sooner?”

Sherlock nodded, “What does one wear to a bonfire?”

“Whatever you want, it can be complicated this time of year with the temperatures being unpredictable. Dress like it's going to be hot but bring a sweater or something in case it gets cold. It's not starting until around 6:00, if that helps any.”

Molly had happily accepted the invite to John’s party, doting over how ‘meaningful’ it was that he invited Sherlock. She teased him mercilessly about how he and John had ‘slept together’ and analyzed every detail Sherlock told her of their moments together; at least the ones he chose to share with her. The plan for Monday was that she would come to his house and help him decide what to wear since he was racking his brain trying to make that call. He didn’t want to wear what he normally wore to school. No, he was feeling bold, adventurous, and… flirtatious? 

When night fell, Sherlock was lying in bed reading the latest book he had checked out from the library and wearing an oversized t-shirt. It was nearly impossible to focus on the plot when his mind kept wandering to visions of John reaching for his face. He played daydreams in his head of what it might have felt like to knowingly be laying in John’s arms, to have been able to appreciate the moment, as it was likely to never happen again. He tried to not allow his heart to be caught up in this fleeting high school crush, as they call it; but he was in too deep. It felt as if his heart was physically hurting. As if someone had mercilessly cracked his ribs, reached inside his chest cavity and gripped the vital muscle to the threshold right before it would burst. 

Mycroft always told him that love was a dangerous disadvantage. Despite how he may appear on the surface, Sherlock was far from the man his brother was. Love, or the feeling he assumed was love, was conflicting. In the moments of daydreams and lingering touches, love was golden bliss. But moments like this, where he lay awake knowing his love was and forever would be unrequited…love was a deep, bruised purple malignant ache. One he wished to never feel again, but it was inevitable. To have the mind of a scientist and the heart of a poet was an affliction he wouldn’t wish on another human. Sherlock often felt to be the embodiment of dissonance. His mind was sharp, but his tongue was sharper. His words shoot to kill, but if someone fired them back, it would bring moisture to his eyes and haunt his subconscious. He never goes out of his way to make friends, but he yearned for them. His calculator type mind, and articulate manner of speaking would never lead you to guess he often drowns his auditory senses with the beautiful litany of Taylor Swift albums. There is a place called Cape Horn, located near the bottom tip of South America, it is where the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean meet. There, deep royal blue meets warm teal green and they appear to touch but never mix. Sherlock often felt his mind was one ocean and his heart the other, and he was walking the fine line between them, just trying to stay afloat. 

Just as tears brimmed his eyes his phone chimed beside him. 

1 new message: John

“Goodnight, Sherlock.” 

There was no context. No rhyme or reason why this message was on his phone. They hadn’t spoken since chemistry this morning. Was this a sign to keep holding on to what could be; or a metaphorical end to things? Putting to bed, saying goodnight, to whatever it was that had grown between them in these short few weeks of knowing one another. If this was a game, he needed to decide how to play it: A) continue on as he was, no intentions on ever admitting his feelings to John or B) try his hardest, without shamelessly throwing himself at him, to be something John desired and when the time was right, confess. 

  
  
  
  


After much deliberation, B was his selected strategy. The worst and most likely thing to happen- when the time came- was for John to cut Sherlock out of his life. If this proved true Sherlock would deal with the repercussions until he returned home to England next September, where he could begin to forget all about John Watson.

“Goodnight, John. -SH”

  
  


Saturday night Sherlock made the first move, sending off a quick goodnight text; blushing furiously when he got one back.

Sunday night repeated the unprompted messages of the previous two nights. Then Monday finally arrived. He and Molly had gone out for lunch before heading back to his place to get ready. Her small overnight bag sat in the corner of his room. Besides his little accident with John this would be the first real ‘sleep over’ he'd ever had. As time grew closer he grew more and more anxious. He had chosen his outfit with care, and it was, well...different than anyone around here had seen him in. The day ended up being cooler than most and he opted to arrive at the bonfire already wearing a pullover sweatshirt rather than carrying it with him. Then came the high waisted jean shorts he was going to wear. They were form fitting and made his ass look incredible. They weren't sleazy but definitely failed to meet the school's fingertip rule when it came to length. Back home he wouldn't have thought twice about wearing them, but here it's all he could do to not think about them.  _ Confidence,  _ he told himself reassuringly. Molly was wearing a casual yellow dress paired with dark brown leggings, she kind of reminded him of a sunflower. She was messing with her face framing baby hairs in the mirror when she saw his figure in the glass approaching her. She turned around. “Ready to- Oh. My. Legs.” She stared, making him sway uncomfortably.

“Is it- are they- I should change, I'll wear-”

“Don't you dare! You look fantastic, just... very different from school.”

“Yes, well, I don't think the principal would look very fondly upon these,” He said, bending down to tie his Converse. 

“No, probably not. But I know someone who will be looking very fondly upon them tonight.”

His face burned “Molly…” she just giggled and took her phone off the charger. “So, you won't be embarrassed to be seen with me if I wear this?” he asked.

“Oh, God no!” She hooked an arm through his “Let's go!”

They waved goodbye to his parents on the way out and his dad's eyebrows were quick to raise, but he didn't say a word. 

Molly parked her car and turned off the engine, looking at Sherlock. “Ready?”

He felt sick, “No.”

“Sherlock, it's going to be fine. You look great, you smell great; muster up some of your academic confidence and bring it with you,” He chuckled at her and opened his car door and let Molly take him by the arm once more. 

The fire was already at a steady burn, lawn chairs were arranged in a horseshoe shape in the opposite direction of where the smoke was blowing. John's family had some adult friends over as well, many of them the parents of the teenagers around the large fire pit. All the football players were in attendance and nearly the entire cheer team, mixed in with a few non sport involved friends. John and Greg were taking cheap, joking stabs at one another. Mary was sat next to him, her legs draping over his lap; allowing him to lazily run his free hand up and down the smooth skin. 

John had only been half engaged in conversation since people began filtering in, continuously looking out for the familiar head of dark curls. Sherlock and Molly breached the top of the hill, coming into John's field of vision. His breath caught, “Oh my God…” his mouth went dry, he was suddenly wishing it wasn't Mary's legs that were in his lap. He didn't realize he had spoken aloud until Mary was leaning forward, “What?” She asked. 

He cleared his throat, “Hmm? Oh, nothing.” He gave her legs a quick pat “Excuse me, I need to greet a few more guests.” She begrudgingly moved them and followed him with her eyes as he walked with a little too much haste toward the pair.

John walked the hill trying to conjure up something to say. What do you say when someone looks like heaven and sin all at once? Hey you look incredible? Turn around so I can see if you look as good from the back as you do the front?  _ Ugh, gross. You're a dog, John. _ He criticized himself. Molly was smiling radiantly while Sherlock's expression remained neutral as always. John gave a closed mouth smile as he neared closer and the Brit returned it. “Hey, I'm glad you came.”

“I told you I would, didn't I?” Sherlock surprised himself with how easily the teasing comment rolled off his tongue. 

They made small talk as John led them back to the fire pit, taking notice of Sherlock’s distinguishing scent. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed when the aroma of burning wood overpowered the sweet, sultry fragrance. He showed them where the buffet line was and the coolers of drinks before reluctantly leaving them and taking his seat next to Mary. 

The sun was starting to set. John's mom had taken the dinner foods and replaced their spots on the table with graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars. The teens lined up, grabbing the ingredients and wire sticks to cook their marshmallows. John waited to join the line until Sherlock and Molly did. “Having a good time? I've seen you mingling with several people.”

Sherlock smiled and picked up some chocolate pieces, “I am. You have some nice friends.”

John glanced at the rise of flesh where Sherlock's thigh connected to his butt-cheek, “Yeah, really nice…”

“Hmm?” Sherlock locked eyes with him. 

John fumbled his words, “Oh, just agreeing. I'm blessed with good friends”

Sherlock smirked and Molly was sure she was about to die from secondhand embarrassment. 

  
  


Sherlock had chosen two seats directly across from John, Greg, and Mary who were all positioned rather close together. It was out of the view of the fire so that his perspective of John was unobstructed and vice versa. Sherlock and Molly squatted low to the ground and began roasting the white puffs. John tried his hardest to stay engaged in the conversation between Mary and Greg but was failing miserably. Sherlock finally took his seat, John's eyes still glued to him. John watches as one ivory leg crosses over the other, acting as a makeshift table for Sherlock’s s’more plate. He groans lowly and pulls at the upper thigh of his jeans, readjusting in his seat.  _ Oh God.  _ He thinks to himself  _ Just do what you do with all your other problems, John – bullshit them away. _

Tearing his gaze away from Sherlock to look at Mary is borderline painful. “Come here.” He says patting his lap. Mary's eyes light up and she smiles brightly, taking a seat in his lap. Her facial expression changes when she feels the arousal in his pants beneath her, “You're happy.” It was inquisitional, but the innuendo was implied.

“Why wouldn't I be?” He pulled her into a kiss and ran his hand up her thigh, letting his fingertips come to rest just barely under the hem of her jean shorts. She deepened the kiss, gently biting his bottom lip. A few other couples had followed suit and were now kissing or so close they might as well have been. It was bizarre in Sherlock's opinion, but other conversations carried on as if nothing was unusual. 

“Should we kiss too?” Molly said, pretending to be dead serious and Sherlock nearly snorted.

John's eyes weren't the only ones that had been following Sherlock this evening. All night, Jim had been staring at him in disgust. Sherlock could brush it off for the most part, but there was something to be said when someone stares like they want you dead. 

The party began to dwindle as the guests left. Soon it was only Sherlock and Molly, John and Mary, Greg and a girl named Claire. According to John, Greg had been trying to get a date with her since sophomore year. They had great conversation and the six of them got along really well. Sherlock even felt some guilt for his feelings toward John after realizing how genuine Mary was; He can see why John likes her so much. The cheerleader received a call and apologized for needing to head back home. Sherlock cringed when she loudly pulled away from her kiss with John. 

“I'll walk you guys up; it's getting late.” John spoke up and Sherlock and Molly started walking up the hill, John purposefully trailing behind Sherlock. “Thank you all for coming.”

“Thank you so much for inviting us, we had a great time!” Molly chimed before getting into the driver seat, leaving Sherlock and John alone.

John shifted awkwardly, “It's going to be strange not seeing you Wednesday afternoon,” He tried to laugh it off. 

“Mmm, yes, but I don't imagine you want to think about chemistry on your fall break.”

“No, not particularly.” 

Sherlock slid a hand into the back pocket of his shorts and pulled out a peppermint, “Here, I brought this for Major in case I saw him this evening, I read online that horses like them. Will you give it to him for me?”

John smiled, “I will. He loves them, thanks.” John held out his hand to take the mint and Sherlock boldly placed his hand in John's, waiting for the other man to move away…But he didn't. Instead John looked from Sherlock to their hands and back up, “Goodnight, Sherlock.”

“Goodnight, John.” The curly haired boy withdrew his hand and got into Molly’s car, giving John one last wave. Molly clicked her tongue, pulling away from the drive, “Well, that was cute,” She teased, but Sherlock was too enthralled with himself to notice.

John cleared away what was left outside before climbing the stairs to his room and taking a shower, washing away the lingering smell of woodsmoke. He laid down in bed staring up at his ceiling, faintly illuminated by the small night light on his desk. He let his mind wander. He couldn't get the image of Sherlock’s perfect ivory legs out of his mind, and the way those jeans hugged his body in all the right places. His hand drifted lower down at his bare torso and crept under the elastic band of his boxers. His cock twitched. Obviously still aching for the attention it wanted earlier tonight. John had fought this exact moment off for weeks, but he couldn't any longer. He pushed his boxers down past his hips and firmly took his hard cock in his hand, stroking it from base to tip. A shiny bead of pre-come already forming. He groaned and increased his speed while he imagined Sherlock in his lap instead of Mary. The Brit’s lips on his own, sucking and nibbling at them before working his way down to his neck. He thought of what it would be like to run his fingers lightly up those perfect porcelain legs, up to his bubble-like ass and squeeze it, massage it. His breathing was becoming more rapid as he pictured Sherlock kissing down his abs. He strokes faster, his toes flexing at the bottom of the bed. Then, finally, Sherlock is on his knees in front of him, topaz blue eyes staring innocently up at him, he leans forward - mouth open- and wraps his lips around- 

“Mmm Sherlock…” John was coming, hot white rope spraying onto his torso and dripping down his hand and cock. “Oh fuck.” He let his head flop back onto his pillow as he cleaned himself up with the tissues kept by the bed. His orgasm was so intense, in the best way, that he laughed breathlessly, “I’m so screwed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday, friends! I hope you all have had a good week so far and that you enjoy this chapter! Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think, comments always help fuel me! Stay safe and healthy!
> 
> Keep up with me on Twitter: @OhHeyyItsAnna
> 
> THIS UPDATE WAS MADE MARCH 4,2021- This story now has a playlist of songs that will coordinate with the titled chapters. This is NOT the kind of playlist you should listen to WHILE YOU READ! In my opinion, the songs will be the most impactful after you have read the chapters. The playlist will help give you a deeper insight to the characters emotions and occasionally coincides with details of the chapters.
> 
> Playlist for Chapters 5,6&7: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PoHj5nfoi8&list=PLG0SYRVliS1jpqXfJ8ScDW1q7CyK3VQAG
> 
> This playlist is a transition from the last one to exploring more about how Sherlock and John are pining after one another and the insecurities that come along with it. there is also a section of it that consists of songs i think john would have playing at the bonfire!


	7. The Watson Inquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday, friends! I hope February is treating you well so far! I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please don't hesitate to comment, ask questions, or give feedback! Stay safe and healthy!  
> Lots of love,  
> Anna

The next day rolled around and Sherlock was hunched over his microscope. His latest research was examining the different types of algae that grew inside his fish tank and if the temperature of his room affected their color. His phone chimed, jolting him from his focus.

1 new message: John

“Hey, are you busy tomorrow afternoon?”

Sherlock’s heart leaped,  _ Never too busy for  _ you _ , John. _

“Not that I know of, why? -SH” 

“My family would like to invite yours over for dinner, since we haven’t all formally met.”

“Who is going to be there? -SH”

“Well, until you agree - just my family.”

Sherlock smirked. “Alright, I’ll check with my parents when they come home and get back to you-SH”

“Great, thanks.”

As badly as he wanted to rush up to his mum and dad and tell them all about how the Watsons invited them to dinner, he wanted to play it casual. He waited until they were all cleaning up after a game of poker. “Oh, I forgot to tell you- the Watsons have invited us over for dinner tomorrow if we are able to come…”

His parents shared a look, “I don’t see any reason we wouldn’t be available. That’s very thoughtful of them. You can tell John we’d love to come and ask if there is anything we can bring.” His mom said.

“We would love to join you for dinner. My mom wants to know if she should bring anything. -SH”

“Great! Mom said to come by around 4 so we can all chat while dinner is cooking. If she wants to bring something, she’s welcome to, but it’s definitely not needed.”

“See you tomorrow. -SH”

“See you tomorrow. Might want to wear something cool, we will probably eat outside, and it’s supposed to be pretty hot tomorrow.” _ Please, please, wear those shorts. _

Sherlock decided not to respond, just to see what would happen. Just as he was climbing into bed *ding*.

1 new message: John

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s smile was smug, and his heart was beating at the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. It was ridiculous how two simple words every night could make him feel like all was well with the world. 

“Goodnight, John. -SH”

  
  


Sherlock heeded John’s warning about the humid southern weather and indeed put on the same shorts from the other night except in black and a pale blue button down. When he came down the steps his dad couldn’t bite his tongue this time, “Violet…” he said to his wife with a head gesture in Sherlock’s direction.

“Sherlock, love…”

Sherlock looked up from tying his shoes.

“Do you have a pair of longer pants you might like to put on?”

The boy’s brows furrowed, and he felt defensive, “No, not really. Is there a problem with my shorts?”

“No, not really. Not to wear this around your friends - but to dinner with John’s parents?”

“I won’t be slut shamed by my own parents.” 

His mother rolled her eyes and sighed, “I birthed a drama queen.” If in perfect irony, Mycroft’s name appeared on her phone. “Make that two drama queens. You can handle this one, darling.” She said passing the responsibility over to her husband before taking the call.

His father gave him an awkward smile and one last look over, “Uh… you look nice. Let’s wait in the car for your mother.”

Mrs. Holmes narrowed her eyes at her husband’s remark. He was the one who wanted to bring up Sherlock’s shorts in the first place.

Over at the Watsons, John was helping his mom cut vegetables for the salad while they engaged in casual conversation. Well, it was casual until she brought up Mary and was insisting he invite her over to have dinner with them all.

“No, mom. I’m sure Mary is busy.”

“You won’t know unless you call her.”

“I thought it would be nice for just our family to get to know the Holmes family.”

“But Mary is family.” 

Something about that struck a nerve with John. It felt as if his mother was once again deciding his future. “Mary isn’t family, mom; she’s my girlfriend.”

“But she’s going to be family someday. Someday pretty soon I hope.”

“We don’t know that. Mary and I could break up tomor-”

“Don’t you say that! Mary is a nice girl and you should count yourself lucky to have her interested in someone like you.”

“The hell do you mean someone li-”

“Oh, there they are! John, go let them in.”

John was pretty irritated at the conversation that had just unfolded between him and his mother but knowing Sherlock was waiting for him outside eased the tension. He had come to a decision this morning. With his sister gone for fall break, Mary not being present and confident that his parents would be too caught up with Sherlock’s to notice - if the opportunity presented itself he would try his hand at intentionally flirting with the boy who made his heart race. Whether this made him straight, gay or somewhere in between, he didn’t know. But at this point he thought a broken heart would be less painful than pining after someone so intently. He watched in awe, a smirk on his face when he saw long ivory legs contrast against black shorts and he thanked God for hearing his prayers.

He greeted Mrs. Holmes first who pulled him into a hug, then shook hands with Mr. Holmes; he thanked them for accepting the invitation and how glad they were to have them as guests. Then he reached Sherlock. Because he had physically touched his parents it only seemed appropriate to touch Sherlock as well… but how. He decided to reach up and lay a hand on his shoulder, “Long time no see,” He smiled, hoping the action looked more casual than it felt. John led them out to the gazebo where his parents appeared to be bickering but stopped when the Holmes’s arrived within earshot. They exchanged pleasantries about how lovely it was to meet one another and what a beautiful place the Watsons have. 

The large gazebo had a couch swing meant for two people and four large chairs, all facing one another so that the conversation could easily be held. John's parents were ushering everyone to be seated; John cleared his throat, “Here, you can sit with me. Give the adults the big chairs.” He joked but had the ulterior motive of placing him and Sherlock on the only seat meant for two people. He sat down and held the swing steady for Sherlock who followed suit, crossing his legs. Mr. Holmes coughed quietly and looked Sherlock dead in the eye. Sherlock uncrossed his legs. John couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't a coincidence. 

They talked about the farm, the animals, England, what brought the Holmes’s here, how long had the Watsons been here, and an array of other topics. Time passed quickly and soon they were gathered around the large outdoor table, digging into chicken parmesan. John's mother had been looking Sherlock up and down since the moment she laid eyes on him. John had even caught his father doing it once but never again. He wanted nothing more than to tell her to stop but knew that would be somewhat awkward and create a tangible tension. 

“So, Sherlock, do you have a girlfriend?” His mom asked. 

John noticed everyone's body language tighten but his parents’. He bit his cheek knowing his mother had a deeper reason for asking that question besides being nosy and making conversation. 

“Girlfriend? No, not really my area.” John breathed a sigh of relief, that was undoubtedly the best answer Sherlock could have given. Everyone around the table chuckled at the reply, it went right over his parents’ heads. 

Over dessert, which Sherlock’s mother had graciously made, the subject of their other property outside of town was brought up. “I was actually going to go out there to see if the hay had been rolled. Sherlock, would you like to come with me? If that's okay with your parents, of course.” John spoke up, Sherlock's eyes on him. 

“Fine by us.” Mr. Holmes shrugged.

“Sounds like a great idea, son. You'll let me know how many hay rolls the smaller field made, right?” His dad asked, eating another bite of the raspberry lemon cake. 

“Sure thing, Pops.”

John and Sherlock walked outside. The darker haired boy realized John's truck was hooked up to the smaller of their two horse trailers. 

“Here,” John said, handing over his truck keys. “Start up the AC and I'll be right there.”

Sherlock did as he was asked but was confused when John walked out with Major on a lead rope and loaded him in the trailer. “Why are we taking Major with us?”

“We need some kind of transportation around the property,” He smiled “Let’s go.”

It was about a 30-minute drive to the property. Winding roads and overhanging branches in the evening sun made it the most beautiful drive Sherlock had been on since arriving in the states. They talked about the family dinner, about John’s sister, about how Major used to be scared of the trailer- all very casual, until Sherlock asked how things were with Mary. 

John shifted in his seat and sighed, “They should be good, perfect even.” 

“But…?” Sherlock tagged on.

“But they aren’t.” John shrugged “She's a great girl, really, I can't think of a genuine reason I would be unhappy with her, but I am. She's nice, funny, smart and well incredibly hot - but lately it feels like, I don't know, like it's just over. Like we've exhausted all there is for our relationship.”

Sherlock nodded, “It's reached its potential.”

“Exactly.” He ran his fingers through his hair. Sherlock loved watching him do that. He wondered if John knew how incredibly attractive it was. “But my parents - especially my mom, already has her written into my future as the mother of their grandchildren. Hell, I don't even know if I  _ want _ children and I certainly don't want to be thinking about being a dad at 17.”

Sherlock laughed, “Mary is lovely, but you can't grow and build a life with someone you feel stuck with. No matter how nice or hot they are. Your parents will get over it and if they don't…that's their problem. It's your life, John. They won't be the ones spending the rest of their lives with her. You've got to make a happy life for yourself, not other people.”

  
  


“You’re right, as usual,” he paused. “But it’s always easier said than done isn’t it?” 

Sherlock nodded his head, “I suppose.”

They pulled into a large paved opening that led up to a big red and white metal barn. This sanction of land was smaller, but more open than the farm at John’s house was. “Out here we grow most of our bulk sale crops: tobacco, soybeans, and feeder corn.” John explained.

“Feeder corn?”

“Yeah, it’s corn specifically for drying out and turning into feed for some of the animals. People can eat it too, it’s just not as good as the species we normally eat.”

“What is in that field?” Sherlock pointed to a plot of land with huge green leafy bulbs, some just beginning to turn yellow.

“Tobacco. It should be ready to be cut any day now.” John was backing Major out of the trailer. “Ready?”

“For what?”

“To get on?”

Sherlock had to look around to make sure John wasn’t talking to someone else. “Get on the horse?”

John smiled, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

“I’d never even touched a horse until I came here, I don’t think I-”

“I’ll be here, don’t worry. Major’s a gentle old man, we’ll just take a walk through that field and count the hay rolls, maybe stop at the creek for a bit if you’re up to it.” John grabbed a stool from his truck. “Here, I’ll help you get on.”

Sherlock reluctantly stood on the stool waiting for John's instructions.

“Wait. Isn’t he supposed to have a saddle on?”

“Normally, but since we will both be on him, I figured it would be easier without one.”

“Both of us are going to ride him. Isn’t that too heavy for him?”

John chuckled, “He’s a big boy, he’ll be just fine. Alright, throw your right leg over him; you can wrap your arms around his neck for balance until you feel steady.”

Sherlock did as he was told, but didn’t swing his body enough and began sliding back down toward the stool, briefly panicking until John put his strong hands on his hips and pushed him the rest of the way up. Sherlock realized he had had his eyes closed and John was smiling in amusement up at him “Scoot back a bit,” John said, passing the reins up to him.

John climbed up the second step of the small ladder and mounted the horse with practiced expertise. Major pivoted to the left and Sherlock quickly wrapped his arms around John’s middle, “John, John, he’s moving, he-” 

John laughed and picked up the reins he had let come to rest at the base of the horse’s neck, “It’s fine, you're fine. Just hold on to me, I promise not to go too fast.”

Had Sherlock not been so tense he would have remembered those words to replay them later in a much different context.

Suddenly Sherlock was hyper aware that this was how they would spend the next however many minutes. His arms wrapped around John, hands able to feel his abs beneath his t-shirt that clung perfectly to his body, John’s back pressed against him - he wasn’t as worried anymore, at least if he fell off and died he would die happy. John smiled that his plan to get Sherlock close to him, without it being awkward, fell into place perfectly. He welcomed the warmth of Sherlock’s body pressed tight against his back, the feel of his hands - on his torso - he didn’t know if he could ever move on from Sherlock after experiencing this. He counted the rolls of hay as they moved through the field, occasionally pointing something out to the other boy or answering a question. They finally reached a decent sized creek that ran near the back of the property. Trees grew on the opposite side of where they were, providing shade and a home for birds and other wildlife.

John dismounted Major and held Sherlock by the waist as he did the same. A blush crept over Sherlock’s face as he wondered if he needed to pinch himself to make sure all of this was real. It felt like one of his daydreams that he frequently let himself get lost in. John tied off Major’s reins and let the horse graze as he pleased, trusting he wouldn’t run off, leaving them to walk back. John removed his boots and socks before cuffing the bottoms of his distressed jeans and sat on the bank of the creek, letting his legs dangle in the cool water. “Join me?”

Sherlock repeated John’s actions and sat down next to him, a little closer than he used to. In one word, it all felt serene. Unknowing to one another they had been intentionally flirting all day, they should have been on edge; but they weren’t. There were no sounds of traffic, of horns blaring, or people yelling. Leaves rustled, birds chirped, their feet made the water move as they swung them, but here in this little patch of heaven - the world seemed at peace.

“How did you know you were gay?”

The peace was broken. Sherlock’s head jerked almost violently to look in John’s direction, but his gaze wasn’t met. John stared straight ahead. Perhaps another metaphor. The question was loaded; many layers to peel back and unravel no matter how John had meant it. How had he meant it? Did he just want a peek into Sherlock’s past, a weird way to bond with one another? Was it a way to begin a conversation so he could refute Sherlock and tell him being gay was wrong? Or was there a flicker of pain behind the question, a cry for something to be acknowledged, a plea for help in understanding something? Sherlock realized he had let too much time lapse when John spoke up again, “Sorry, never mind - it’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s- it’s alright. Listen, if you actually want to know…we can talk about it. If you’re just making conversation, I’d rather not.”

John hesitated. What should he say? Did answering one way mean something against the other? It had taken all his strength to ask the question once, to reaffirm it might be more than his fragile sexuality crisis could handle. Back and forth he battled the correct answer in his head. “I want to know.” He finally met Sherlock’s eyes.

“Alright.” Sherlock replied.  _ Why is everything with John so intense? _ “Well, um, I know this is a cliché, but, it became one for a reason - because it’s true - I guess I always kind of knew. But I know that’s not the answer you’re looking for.”

John didn’t know what kind of answer he was looking for.

“I think it became apparent to me in elementary school, grades 3 and 4 or sometime around there. I would hear my classmates talk about the girls they had crushes on and how having that crush made them feel; meanwhile I was feeling the same way about some of them. It didn’t seem important enough at the time to bring it up to my parents or brother, so I didn’t. but in grade 6, there was this guy - Nate - and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I thought he was the most gorgeous human to ever exist. I’d spend hours wondering what it would be like to kiss him, go on dates, touch him - you get the idea. So, one evening my parents and brother were out of the house and I turned to the computer to try and figure out why I was feeling this way about people of the same sex. I already knew it wasn’t normal, heteronormativity is so prevalent in the world that it wasn’t shocking to me to find out being a male and liking other men wasn’t typical. Anyway, I typed into the search bar ‘I’m a boy who likes other boys.’” Sherlock laughed at his past naivety. “That was the first time I was able to put a label on it. Sorry, that may not have answered what you asked. I’m not very good at explaining things that deal with…. emotions.”

“You’re a lot better at it than you give yourself credit for,” John replied and they shared a tight-lipped smile. “What did your parents say?”

“As you may have picked up on, they are very progressive people. They didn’t act all that surprised. They told me that they loved me and supported me always, but that not everyone would. We had a lot of conversations about bullying, homophobia and the different shapes it could take. It didn’t and still doesn’t make a difference to them whether I like girls or guys, but it made a difference in how they talked to me about safety. There was an incident back home, not long after I had come out to my family - only my family - where a gay man was bashed not far from our house. He’s a paraplegic now; it scared me, but it scared my parents more. We talked that incident to the ground. Until I got older, I always had to censor myself in large public settings, careful not to say something, wear something, or do something that might tip someone off that I was gay. Sometimes, even now, they get worried and will gesture or just tell me before we go to be cautious.”

“The patio…” John whispered so lowly he didn’t even realize he had said It aloud.

“Hmm?”

“Oh, um. Tonight, out on the patio - you sat down and then your dad coughed and you-”

“Uncrossed my legs.” Sherlock finished his sentence “Yeah, that one happens pretty often. Your observational skills are impressive tonight.” A sly smile across his face and John laughed.

“So, your parents were worried?” John said, earning a confused look that turned to flustered.

“They didn’t verbalize anything to me, and I wouldn’t take it personally, John. Perhaps they just didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“They didn’t correct you at dinner - when my mom asked what she did. I’m sorry about that by the way.”

Sherlock shrugged, “It didn’t bother me. I guess now that you mention it - apparently my family and I unspokenly decided to not tell yours I’m gay. We didn’t mean any offense.”

“None taken, really. I don’t know how they would have reacted, truthfully.” John paused. “So, back in England, did you have issues with, um, bullying and people not accepting you?”

Sherlock tensed a bit, “I had my fair share. That’s really all I want to say about that.”

John nodded, “We should head back, I want to have him loaded in the trailer while there is still some sunlight.”

They pulled their feet out of the water, letting them dry for a minute in the September sun before putting their shoes back on. “Can I um… drive?”

John laughed, “Yeah, sure thing cowboy.” 

John helped Sherlock back onto Major, before getting back on himself - struggling a little more than before due to the absence of a ladder. “Alright, so basically hold your reins like this,” John held Sherlock’s hand with his own - both blushing, unknown to one another - “If you want him to go right, gently pull to the right. Same with the left; if you want him to stop say ‘whoa’ and very, very easily pull back. If you get freaked out, let me know, I can guide him from back here too. Oh, and don’t move your feet, I’ll take care of that.”

John wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s tiny waist and thought of how there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be right now. Sherlock’s body was pressed tight against his, the smell of his perfume and conditioner filled his senses. But nothing compared to the feeling of how Sherlock’s hips were rocking against his own with the strides of Major’s walk. John came close to audibly moaning a few times. Sherlock’s ass, in those shorts, pressed against his groin was enough content to fulfill his fantasies for the next year. He prayed Sherlock wouldn’t feel his half-mast erection pressed against him.

  
  


When the two arrived back, their parents were sitting on the veranda. Their mothers sipping on red wine and their fathers nursing the end of two Bud Light’s. After returning Major to his stall, their parents were already saying their goodbyes, far too engrossed in their conversation to pay any attention to the one John and Sherlock were having.

“Hey, I know we didn’t plan on doing any tutoring over the break, but I was thinking it might be nice to get a head start on the next unit, If you’re up for it?” John silently hoped Sherlock would accept his offer to spend more time together.

“Sure, my place tomorrow?”

John nodded in agreement, “Listen, I hope I didn’t pry too much this evening.”

“You didn’t, really. It’s nice to have someone take an interest in me. In my life, I mean! Not in me as in-”

John chuckled, “Sherlock, take a breath, would you?”

He did just that. At this point he’s pretty sure he would do anything John asked. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

“I did too. Let’s do it again soon.”

“I’d like that. Although I’m not sure I’m comfortable riding by myself yet, so I guess you’re stuck with me,” Sherlock said looking toward the ground.

“Good.” John said with a shy smile. Sherlock looked up to meet John’s eyes and smiled back. Just before the silence could turn awkward, Mrs. Holmes interrupted.

“Ready to go, my love?” She reached up and gently held near the base of Sherlock’s neck. “John, we’ll see you soon?”

John nodded, “Yes ma’am, tomorrow actually - gonna start the next chemistry unit.”

“See you tomorrow, then!”

John’s family all stood on the porch and waved as the Holmes’s drove away. “Did you and John have a nice time?” Sherlock’s father inquired, setting his beer bottle in the cup holder.

“We did - Dad you hate beer.” He passed the bottle back to Sherlock - it was almost completely full. “I rode a horse.” Both parents turned to look at him, with a confused and mildly worried look in their eyes. “Well, kind of. John and I were on the same horse and he did all the work, but still.”

“That sounds lovely, darling. I’m so glad you’ve made such a good friend in the short time we’ve been here.” There was a silence before she spoke up once more “Sherlock, does John know you’re gay?”

The question caught him off-guard, “He does.”

She smiled widely and grabbed her husband’s hand that rested on the console, “Have I mentioned how much I adore John?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Once or twice.” He mumbled sarcastically, but she wasn’t the only one who adored him.

“Then why didn’t you tell his family at dinner?”

“Because you all didn’t want me to.”

“We never said-”

“You didn’t have to, it was implied. It’s fine, I’m sure it was better off that way.”

  
  


Back at the Watson’s, John’s father was sitting at the small kitchen table reviewing recent purchases made for the farm as he and his mother were washing the dishes. “Tonight was good, don’t you think John?”

“Yeah, I’m glad we had them over. we should do it again sometime.”

His mother made no comment. “They’re a very…interesting family, aren’t they?”

Before John could speak his father interjected, “Yes, but I suppose they probably think the same about us.” He and John chuckled, but his mother found no humor.

“What I mean is - well, Violet does all of this complicated research; I don’t think I understood half the words she said when she was explaining her job. And the father is a university professor, which is highly respectable but not when your wife is apparently some mastermind scientist.”

“Are you suggesting Mrs. Holmes would have been better suited as a housewife?”

“No, Martin. I’m not. Are you suggesting that’s all I could be?”

John sighed and rolled his eyes.  _ Here we go.  _ He thought to himself.

“I didn’t say that, you know damn well you can go back to the workforce any time you so desire.” It’s true, his wife had chosen to stay at home, he had never once suggested it. She again had no reply.

“And that Sherlock. Did you see how he was dressed?”

“And what of it?” John snapped, feeling a bit protective.

“I don’t think Hannah owns a pair of pants that short, and if she did I would certainly never let her go out in them.”

“Well, I’d hope not considering she’s nine.” Mr. Watson spoke up, he and John once again shared a laugh.

“All I’m saying is it gives off the wrong impression. If I didn’t know any better I’d assumed he was queer.” 

John clenched his teeth; she was treading on thin ice. “And what if he was? Would it really be so bad?”

The room fell quiet. “Well, you know what Pastor Chris says-”

“Yeah, I know what he says. I also know he got arrested for smacking his ex-wife over the head with a beer bottle while he was drunk off his ass. So forgive me if I don’t put too much moral upstanding in Pastor Chris.”

“Watch your mouth! That was years ago, long before he moved here.”

“It still happened.”

She rolled her eyes, “I don’t know about where they are from, but we just don’t have folks like that around here. They aren’t particularly welcome here so they stay away, it may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it works for us.  _ Is _ he gay, John?”

John was so angry he could barely process the question she asked. He had no idea how to respond. Sherlock didn’t out himself over dinner for his benefit, but he knew Sherlock didn’t care to tell people if they asked. “He is, actually.” 

She tried to stare at his father, but he remained unphased, looking over the credit card statement - but John knew he was listening to every word. 

“Well, as long as he doesn’t come around here parading his disgusting lifestyle then-”

“Disgusting lifestyle? Are you serious right now? He was nothing but polite to you this evening! I can’t think of a goddamn thing he did that could have possibly made you uncomfortable!” John slammed a plate down on the counter, turning to stare at her.

“Language! Martin, are you going to back me up at all?”

He sighed loudly, “As long as I'm not the one hes kissing, it doesn’t bother me.”

She scoffed in surprise, “And you feel comfortable letting him around  _ our _ John?”

His father stood from the table quickly, his water glass trembling, John thought he might be doing the same. “Now listen here, Sherlock is a fine young man. He’s been a tremendous help to John and a damn good friend too. He even helps out around here, picking up  _ your _ slack - might I add. Never asked a dime from us for tutoring, do you know how expensive a good chemistry tutor probably is, Carolyn? I’d say we are all lucky to have folks like the Holmes around here. As for John, he is more than capable of choosing his friends - and as far as I’m concerned Sherlock is always welcome in this home. Tell you the truth, I’m disappointed in the way you’ve talked about these people since they’ve left. Disappointed, but not surprised.” His mother was silent, John looked at his father with thankful eyes and a soft smile. His eyes were kind when they fell on his son, but he didn’t smile, “John, I think you should go to your room now.”

It felt abrupt and unexpected. “Um, alright. Goodnight.” They both muttered a goodnight and John slowly made his way up the stairs. He was about halfway up when he decided to linger. He knew he was asking to feel his heart rip, but he couldn’t make himself walk the rest of his way into his room yet. Then the familiar sounds of yelling and sharp insults rang through the hallways of his house until they reached him. It always hurt to hear his parents fight, but it hit differently when he knew it was because of him. For the first time in a long time he let the tears that brimmed his eyes fall down his cheeks. What a rainy ending given to a perfect day. He felt twinges of guilt for not defending Sherlock more than he had. He so badly wanted to yell at his mother, to shame her for her intolerable and homophobic remarks. He almost wanted to burst at the seams and ask her if she would feel the same way if it were him…because it very well could be. He pulled himself off the step and walked the rest of the way to his room, laying down and trying to focus on the time he and Sherlock had spent out in the field. His phone buzzed on his stomach.

1 new message: Sherlock

“Goodnight, John. -SH”

His heart fluttered. At this point he knew it was undeniable. He had fallen completely, truly, madly, deeply, violently in love with Sherlock Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday, friends! I hope February is treating you well so far! I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please don't hesitate to comment, ask questions, or give feedback! Stay safe and healthy!  
> Lots of love,  
> Anna
> 
> THIS UPDATE WAS MADE MARCH 4,2021- This story now has a playlist of songs that will coordinate with the titled chapters. This is NOT the kind of playlist you should listen to WHILE YOU READ! In my opinion, the songs will be the most impactful after you have read the chapters. The playlist will help give you a deeper insight to the characters emotions and occasionally coincides with details of the chapters.
> 
> Playlist for Chapters 5,6&7: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PoHj5nfoi8&list=PLG0SYRVliS1jpqXfJ8ScDW1q7CyK3VQAG
> 
> This playlist is a transition from the last one to exploring more about how Sherlock and John are pining after one another and the insecurities that come along with it. there is also a section of it that consists of songs i think john would have playing at the bonfire!


	8. Everything Has Changed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Happy Valentines day to all my sweet readers! I wanted to give you all a special chapter for this day- i think its one you've been anticipating! Please feel free to comment, give feedback, or ask questions! 
> 
> keep up with me on twitter: @OhHeyyItsAnna

He arrived at the Holmes’s a little earlier in the afternoon with plans to hang out with Sherlock before they studied. Despite yesterday being hot, the evening rain blew in a cold front. Sherlock was dressed more casual than John had ever seen him, not that he expected him to look like a Versace model all the time. He looked different, but beautiful, nonetheless. He had on black sweatpants and an oversized grey sweatshirt with his old high school logo across the front, he was also wearing a pair of black framed glasses. John admired how comfortably cute he looked. “I didn’t know you wore glasses”

“I usually only wear them if I have several days off and want to give my eyes a rest from my contacts.”

“They look good on you.” He swore he saw Sherlock blush. 

Wanting to put off studying a bit longer, John cleared his throat and spoke up, “Want to take a drive?” Sherlock nodded his head, never willing to refuse time spent with the boy he was hopelessly falling for. 

John took a shortcut to his property and drove far back into the field, thankful he wasn’t on a real road as he kept stealing glances at the beautiful boy in his passenger seat. The windows were down, letting the warm evening air blow through the cab, tussling the dark brunette curls and carrying with it the smell of Sherlock and the end of summer. He parked near the creek, where they had sat and talked only the evening before. The water was nearing too cold to put their feet in, rather they sat on the tailgate and the radio played the local country music station. It was a perfect volume to act as a soundtrack for their evening. They talked about little things, rumors that were going around school, football, and other topics that came easily. It was easy for John to feel like he had known Sherlock forever, but just as easy to wonder where he had been all his life.

A few guitar strums came over the speakers and Sherlock's eyes lit up and John could see him fighting a smile.

“ Everything alright?” John asked and the younger boy just nodded. “You like this song?”

“ It’s one of my favorites.” Sherlock hated the blush he felt rising in his face, hoping it could be disguised by the heat of the air.

John slid off the tailgate, “ We should turn it up then.” He smiled, opening the driver's side to turn the volume dial higher. The first chorus of Taylor Swift’s ‘Tim McGraw’ came through even louder now. John climbed back into the bed of the truck with practiced ease. Sherlock tried to hide his look of shock when John began humming to the melody. 

“You know this song?”

John chuckled, “I think everyone around here knows this song by now. I’m more surprised  _ you _ know it. I didn’t think they would play country music across the pond.”

Sherlock hesitated, “ They don’t. I really like Taylor Swift.” He tried to read John's facial expressions but they were blank. He felt an overwhelming need to justify and validate why he liked her, as if enjoying her music should be shameful for a teenage boy. “Her storylines are incredible and so many songs are lyrically complex and driven by raw emotion that it makes you appreciate human vulnerability and-“

“ She's great.” John laughed “ She writes good music. She’s not in my top 10 but I don’t turn the radio down when her songs come on. You don’t have to defend it to me.” John's smile made the world feel safe. “ Everyone likes what they like.” The short sentence felt like it held a deeper meaning of approval.

Sherlock gave a small smile and watched his legs dangle off the edge of the tailgate.

  
  


They had only been studying for about half an hour when John realized he hadn’t retained anything Sherlock had said. How could he focus on the chemistry on the desk when he couldn’t stop thinking about the chemistry between them? As Sherlock continued rambling about enthalpy John was watching his lips move, even more intently when he would absentmindedly place his pen between them when he paused to think. John suddenly felt very overwhelmed with his feelings. No one feeling stood out over the others, but the positives overshadowed the negatives. In this moment, up in Sherlock’s quiet room with the only sounds around him being the quiet trickle of the aquarium and Sherlock’s deep voice, he felt at ease. He wasn’t concerned with anyone else’s opinion of him- or more importantly so- the opinion of his dwindling stereotypical masculinity. He didn’t feel scared or disgusted by his feelings. He knew what he wanted, what he  _ had _ wanted but wouldn’t admit for weeks now. “Sherlock.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

The Brit looked up. John looked from his eyes to his lips and back. He tried to take a breath, but his lungs felt as if they were going to burst. He leaned forward, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to Sherlock’s. It was a feeling like no other. Kissing Sherlock felt like he had gained clarity to every question he ever had. Sherlock’s lips were still and soft against his own. As he moved his lips against the younger boys’ he reached across the small gap between them and let his hand come to rest midway down the raven-haired boy’s thigh. Sherlock finally began to reciprocate and let his mouth move in tandem with John’s. He leaned closer into the kiss.

Sherlock was stunned. Sure, John had seemed a bit dazed while he was explaining chemistry concepts, but he never would have guessed this would have been the reason why. Don’t get him wrong, he was on cloud nine; but this was far from any scenario he had imagined in his head. This was his first kiss. Being the hopeless romantic he was, he always envisioned something more than a sudden lip lock, or at least a build up to it. Hand holding, a movie or dinner, something to let him bathe in the anticipation and give some kind of warning. But this is what he wanted, what he had mulled over and pined after for weeks. To know what John Watson’s mouth would feel like on his and now he knew. He never wanted it to end.

But it did. It ended nearly as quickly as it had started. John just looked at him, eyes wide and pupils blown. He looked away and grabbed his phone and keys. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I’ll um- I’ve gotta go.” John rushed down the stairs, two at a time, not bothering to say goodbye to either of Sherlock’s parents on the way out. He rushed to get in his truck. Sherlock looked out of the second story window and watched as John sped away. He was in disbelief; he hadn’t even gotten the chance to say anything. He heard his mother’s footsteps rushing up the stairs.

“Is everything alright, why did John leave? I thought you two were going to go for dinner?”

“John just kissed me.” Sherlock brought his hand to his mouth and gently let his fingers trace over his bottom lip.

“Oh.” She shifted awkwardly “He… he kissed you and just left?”

Sherlock nodded, too lost in his own world to notice the discontent frown on his mother’s face. It faded to one of sympathy, “Are you alright?”

He finally looked at her. “I think so. I mean, it’s just a kiss right?”

“It’s just a kiss but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t feel like more, especially with how things seemed to have played out.”

Sometimes he hated her words of wisdom. “I wanted him to kiss me for so long. Mum…why do I feel so sad.” His voice shook.

She took a few steps forward and pulled him into a hug, “I don’t know, my love. What I do know is that John is probably feeling just as confused about this as you are, maybe more so.” She pet his head softly “Give him some time. Try to give him the benefit of the doubt too, okay? I don’t imagine he would intentionally upset you.” Sherlock just nodded.

After several hours on the phone with Molly, Sherlock had spoken every feeling he was capable of verbalizing. Molly had initially been ecstatic but now found herself rather angry with John. Much like his mother, Molly advised him to be patient. Every touch, every flirty comment from the past several weeks ran through his mind. Had he led John on? Was it his fault he felt this way? Or did John genuinely have feelings towards him and was truly struggling and confused. Was this why he asked how Sherlock knew he was gay the other night? It had gotten late, and Sherlock swallowed his pride and texted John goodnight. And for the first time in nearly three weeks John didn’t text back.

John had rushed home and gone directly to his room, avoiding the prying eyes of his parents. He laid in bed but didn’t sleep, just gazed at the blank ceiling. He wasn’t even sure he really thought about anything. He felt inexplicably numb. Hours had passed like seconds; he didn’t realize it until his phone buzzed at nearly eleven. A goodnight text from Sherlock. At first, he ignored it, but then he found himself writing and rewriting novel sized paragraphs about how sorry and confused he was. That wasn’t a conversation to be had over text though and it was nearing one in the morning-Sherlock would be asleep anyway. He felt guilty, so guilty. Guilty for not texting him back, for kissing him, for running off without any explanation. He was so lost. He knew he liked Sherlock far more than just a friend, of that much he was certain, but what did that mean for him? For southern, football playing, cheerleader dating, third generation farmer John Watson, where would this shift him to in life? He hoped without sincerity that Sherlock would just decide to hate him, maybe things would be easier that way.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the break, but they thought about each other every hour of every day. There were no goodnight texts, no tutoring sessions, no hanging out or family dinners. It was like their relationship turned cold with the weather. Fall break ended and John was about to vomit from nerves as he walked into chemistry. He sat down, but Sherlock never looked up from his book. When class started, he never looked up from his note packet, and he certainly didn’t speak to John. John, however, couldn’t stop looking at him. It hadn’t fully hit him just how much he had missed his friend until he smelled the perfume he wanted to drown himself in. It felt as if the words were coming to a boil and about to spill over. Mrs. Whitton was dragging on at the front of the room.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened?” John whispered. 

Sherlock paused but didn’t look up, no reply.

“We can’t just avoid it forever. I mea-”

“Oh, can’t we? You seem to be doing a pretty good job of it.” Sherlock snapped. It should have upset John, but he was just glad to hear him speak to him again.

“Sherlock, what happened last week- I’m straight and-”

Sherlock whipped his head to look at him, “ _ YOU _ kissed  _ me _ .”

“Shhh!” John sounded far louder than Sherlock had spoken, causing a few students to turn their heads for a moment to glance at the pair.

“So before you finish that sentence I suggest you really think about what you want to say.” The tone was spitting cold.

“Well you didn’t exactly pull away.”

“Well you didn’t exactly give me the chance to before you went running out of my house.” Sherlock mocked.

John didn’t have a comeback, as per usual- Sherlock was right. He hadn’t given him a chance to react at all before he bolted.

John sighed, “Can we talk later today?”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, “You had four days to talk to me about it.”

“Fine. If you want to be a hard ass about it, that’s fine; just- just don’t breathe a word about it to anyone.”

Guilt seemed to wash over Sherlock. John was probably scared to death he would say something. Now would probably not be the best time to tell him that his mother and Molly already knew. He was hurt and confused more than he was angry. He also was hurting for John. “What time?”

“Huh?”

“What time do you wanna talk?”

John tried to smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I’ve got practice after school. But maybe around 5? We can go back out to the creek if you want.”

Sherlock wanted to agree so badly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea until we work this out.”

He could see the disappointment on John’s face. “Oh, sure, alright. My place or yours then? I don’t really want to have this discussion in public or else I would offer for us to get coffee or something.”

“It’s fine, just come over after practice. Actually, um, I hate to ask given the state of things, but I could use a ride home after school unless I want to sit outside until Molly finishes play practice.”

“You can always ask for a ride home, I don't mind. See you after school.”

At practice, John channeled all his emotions into the game, making great improvements. The coach even slapped him on the shoulders and told him he'd come a long way since freshman year. In the locker room, the coach announced that he would decide the team captain next week and that the two who were in the running were John and Jim. 

John smelled disgusting and he knew it. He couldn't stand the thought of getting into an enclosed space smelling like dirt and sweat while Sherlock sat next to him smelling like heaven itself. He decided to quickly rinse off in the showers.

Sherlock was exiting the school building and making his way toward John's truck. Jim was walking up the hill at a rapid pace, “Hey pretty boy!” He called and Sherlock tried to ignore him, but he ran closer until he was standing in front of him just next to the corner of the building. “I'm talking to you.”

“I wish you weren't.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and Jim let out an unamused laugh. 

“I saw you at the bonfire.”

“If you hadn't, I'd be worried about your vision.”

“Who do you think you’re impressing walking around in clothes like that?”

“Seems to have left an impression on you.” Sherlock felt a sharp scraping down his spine. Jim had just pushed him against the rough concrete corner of the building and pinned him there. He felt lucky his head had barely missed the sharp edge. 

“What are you trying to say?”

“I'm not saying anything. Just that you looked at me more than anyone else there. Is there something you wanna tell me?” Sherlock wished he could just keep his smart mouth shut. Jim pressed him harder into the corner making him whimper in pain. Suddenly Jim was hurled backwards. John had grabbed him by the back of his shirt collar and jerked him away “What the hell is your problem?!”

“Stay out of it, John, this doesn't concern you.”

“If you start altercations in front of people, everyone becomes involved! Move on, go home!”

John started to walk toward Sherlock when Jim yelled out, desperate to have the last word, “Yeah go home and suck each other’s dicks!”

John turned on his heel, fist clenched and collided it with the side of Jim's jaw. Jim fell to the ground holding his face. He got up towering over John, leaning in close to his face, “Don't make an enemy out of me, Watson.”

John didn't back down; he didn't even look phased. Just enraged. Jim stomped off to his truck and drove away, a cloud of smoke trailing behind him. When he was out of sight John rushed to the other boy’s side. Throwing caution to the wind, he placed his hands-on Sherlock’s shoulder and looked up at him with worried eyes, “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“No really, are you okay?”

“I'm fine John.” His tone was short “Can we go now?”

They drove in silence until Sherlock finally spoke up, “You shouldn't have hit him.”

“Excuse me? He was hurting you.”

“Not at that exact moment. He wasn't touching either of us when he said- well what he said. Hitting him doesn't make you much better than him.” John scowled, but knew Sherlock was right.

“Thanks, I guess, for sticking up for me. It was nice of you… and also kind of hot.”

He turned to glance at Sherlock who was smirking at him. They broke into laughter and for a second everything felt normal again. “So, we're good?” John asked.

Sherlock nodded, “Yes, I think so.” He took a breath “We should still talk about what happened though.”

“I know…”

“Will you promise me something?” Sherlock asked, his tone somber and serious “don't kiss me and run off this time.”

John smiled, “promise.”

_ Loophole. _

  
  


They pulled into Sherlock’s driveway and talked casually as they made their way inside. Sherlock made himself a cup of tea, hoping it would help soothe the nerves that seemed to be vibrating with electricity inside his body. He offered John a water, which he graciously accepted. He cracked the seal on the bottle, “So where should we talk?”

Sherlock glanced over before promptly returning to stirring honey into his tea, “My room might be best, unless that will trigger you.” He smirked, taking a cautious sip of the hot liquid.

John jokingly punched his shoulder, “Ass.” 

Sherlock sat down on his bed criss crossing his legs, his back resting against the headboard. John stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure where to sit. He had drunk nearly all of his water and his mouth still felt dry, he can’t remember a time he was this nervous. “John, it is entirely possible for two men to sit on a bed and have a conversation without it leading to sex.” 

John nearly choked, “Jesus, Sherlock.” 

It was uncomfortable, but Sherlock accomplished his point of making John laugh, loosening him up even if it was for a brief moment. He finally took a seat across from Sherlock. 

“Do you want to just start talking or do you want me to ask you questions?” Sherlock offered, hoping to relieve some pressure off the other boy. Despite being able to see how scared John was, Sherlock couldn’t help but admire him. 

“Um, I’ll- I’ll just start talking I guess.” John said as he began rubbing his fingers out of nervous habit. “first, I’m sorry for kissing you. I shoul-”

“Are you?” Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. 

John instantly looked down. He hesitated, “No, I’m not. But I am sorry for how I did it and for running out and for not talking to you for days afterwards. I, I was just- am just so confused. Well, really I’m more scared than I am confused.” Sherlock nodded in understanding, encouraging John to continue. “I um, I’ve had a sort of an on and off again infatuation with guys my whole life. I’ve always been able to push the thoughts away, and date girls and keep my friends and live the life I’m supposed to; but all of that changed when I met you. The boys before, I may have liked them for months, some even a year or so- but I swear I never thought about them as much as I have you in the past several weeks since I’ve known you. I’ve also never felt so strongly about them…um the way I have you. I’ll try not to sound like a creep, but you have been all I’ve thought about since that first day in chem class. You have been the first thing on my mind when I get up and the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep- hell, I’ve even dreamed about you. No matter how many hours we’ve spent together, they never feel like enough. I can’t seem to get my fill of you, Sherlock. I’ve fought and hated myself over this, but I’m tired of fighting. I don’t want to screw up our friendship, if I haven’t already, but I can’t go on breaking my own heart as I pine after you. And I’m sure you and your powers of deduction knew this long ago but” deep breath “I want to be so much more than just your friend.” 

Sherlock was never one to handle outbursts of sentiment well. It usually made him squirm and drown in an uncomfortable feeling. There always seemed to be a hidden pressure to reply back with just as much emotion, and he couldn’t always do that. But nothing about John’s words felt embellished or insincere. When he finally met John’s eyes it was with a look of honesty. It was raw and painful honesty; not just with Sherlock but with himself. Sherlock and John both sat in a comfortable but prominent silence. Sherlock was thinking carefully about how he wanted to reply. He didn’t want to mess up, it had to come out right- there would be no second chance, no redo button to fix his fumbled explanation. “Thank you for the honesty, and the apology. To some extent, I understand how difficult the things you must be feeling are and I never want to add to the problem. After you left…I couldn’t help but wonder if I had said or done something to lead you on- if this was all my fault.”

John shook his head persistently, “No, Sherlock. No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I should have begun dealing with these feelings a long time ago, but it never seemed important until you. You did nothing except be incredibly attractive and have all the qualities I could ever want in somebody.”

Sherlock’s eyes were held in a gaze with John’s. No one had ever spoken such kind words about him before. He wasn’t sure how to handle it.

“And if you don’t feel the same, I understand. Really, I do- but I had to get it off my chest.” John added.

“No, I- I very much feel the same way about you, John. I’ve been trying to block these feelings out for weeks, thinking I'd never have a chance with you.”

John smiled widely and a wave of relief washed over him. Sherlock liked him. He hesitated, lightly licking his bottom lip and leaning forward. His face was so close to Sherlock’s he could feel the other boy’s breath ghosting across his skin. Sherlock’s eyes scanned across John’s face, “You promised you wouldn’t kiss me and run off.”

“I know. I’m not running.” John closed the gap between them. His body relaxed along Sherlock’s as he cupped the side of the Brit’s pale face, letting the tips of his fingers tangle softly in the dark curls. The kiss was soft and light. Cautious and leaving something to be desired, but for the two of them- both so new and wary of their recently voiced emotions, it was everything. Sherlock was unsure where to put his hands. Their angle was awkward as it was. Sherlock decided to let a hand come to rest at the center of John’s chest, who leaned into the touch even more. This was the moment they had yearned for weeks on end, the lingering thoughts that kept them up at night and the reason to keep going the next day. Sherlock finally broke the kiss for a fear he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. When he pulled back John slowly opened his eyes and looked at him as he gently bit his bottom lip, cheeks flushed.

“that was…” Sherlock’s breath was wavering

“mhmm.” John agreed, he didn’t know what to, but the unspoken language between them led him to believe that whatever word Sherlock’s incredible brain was searching for- he would agree with. John just stared at the other boy whose head was cast downward in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry if, um” Sherlock began and John furrowed his brows in confusion, what on earth would Sherlock possibly have to apologize for? “If I was bad, I’ve never-” he continued and suddenly it hit John. 

“Shit, I’m your first kiss.” He said and Sherlock nodded. John ran a hand over his face, “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I- God I’m selfish- I’m sure you didn’t imagine having your first kiss with someone who ran off immediately after. Christ, I’m sorry.” He was genuinely mortified. It may seem like a ‘girly’ thing to do, but boys often wonder and envision what their first kiss will be like too. How they think it will go, how they want it to go. John felt as if he had ruined a rite of passage for Sherlock.

The dark curls shook with the motion of his head, “It’s alright. You, um- you’ve definitely made up for it now.” Sherlock was still flustered, and it was completely and utterly endearing to John.

“I fully intend to keep making it up to you.” John started to lean forward again, in an attempt to reclaim Sherlock’s lips.

“You’re awful bold for someone who has just confessed to their first homosexual crush.” Sherlock teased and John laughed, leaning in even closer. He tried to close the gap when Sherlock turned his head, letting his lips fall on his high porcelain cheekbones.

“John, what about Mary?”

It felt as if time stopped. He hadn’t even thought about Mary today, he hadn’t thought about her at all in the context of his kiss with Sherlock either. He let out a long sigh and a curse under his breath “I…I have to break up with her. I can’t cheat on her, well more than I already have. It’s not fair to her…or you either.”

“mmm, I don’t much feel like being the other woman.” Sherlock tried to lighten the mood, glowing when John chuckled.

“We should probably refrain from doing something like this again. At least until I end it with Mary. It makes me feel…gross. You won’t say anything to anyone right?” 

Sherlock shook his head, “No, I’ll leave that up to you. Um, my mum and Molly do know that you kissed me though.”

John suddenly felt his temperature rise and anxiety washed over him, “They won’t-”

“No, don’t worry. I’ve already told them to keep to themselves. Honestly I think they were more concerned about you than me after you ran off.” The two smiled at each other. “So, after you break up with Mary, where does that leave us?” Sherlock looked up inquisitively as he chewed the inside of his bottom lip.

“Where do you want it to leave us?”

“John, I’m not trying to pass decisions onto you, but as they say, ‘the ball is in your court.’” 

John knew exactly what he meant. Sherlock was out to anyone who cared to know; he was out to even people he wished didn’t know, i.e. Jim. It was all different for John. With the recent revelations of his family’s homophobic tendencies, Jim’s bullying, the decision for team captain approaching, and all the other events of senior year coming up- it felt like he wanted to crawl back into the closet he had just barely stepped out of and once again bury himself with clothing of shame and hatred. “We have to stay a secret. At least for a while.” John’s voice was shaking, that much he knew, but he didn’t realize the tremor in his hands until Sherlock reached across the small distance and held them in his own. 

“That’s fine. It will be okay. No one has to know if you don’t want them to.” Sherlock gave his hands a reassuring squeeze. John fought with his brain that told him to bring the pale hands to his lips and kiss Sherlock’s long fingers; probably a bit soon for that.  _ way too soon _ he scolded himself. Instead he gave a small smile and a whispered “Thank you.”

“Might be a bit hard to keep from my parents” Sherlock stopped and quickly tacked on “If, if we start a relationship I mean. We don’t have to, it's just, well- they knew weeks ago you liked me.”

John chuckled, “As long as they don’t tell mine, it’s alright. Besides, it would be nice to have somewhere we don’t have to hide.” 

Sherlock’s breath hitched hearing John say ‘we.’ He reluctantly dropped John’s hands, they had long since stopped shaking.

“I don’t know when I’m going to break up with Mary… I don’t think I can just go over there and do it tonight. ” 

“Whenever you think it’s right. I’m here until next fall.” He joked, but it came out far more somber than he anticipated. Unaware to one another, they both repeated ‘ _ until next fall _ ’ in their minds. It seemed so far off but they could feel the realization that the day will come when Sherlock will have to go back home. That would be then, and this is today- no need to dwell on that now.

“We can still hang out until I break up with her right?” a hopeful inflection was present in John’s voice and his eyes seemed to sparkle as Sherlock nodded his head.

“Nothing has to change.”

“Nothing has to change.” John repeated softly. But Sherlock was wrong, everything was about to change. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Happy Valentines day to all my sweet readers! I wanted to give you all a special chapter for this day- i think its one you've been anticipating! Please feel free to comment, give feedback, or ask questions! 
> 
> keep up with me on twitter: @OhHeyyItsAnna
> 
> THIS UPDATE WAS MADE MARCH 4,2021- This story now has a playlist of songs that will coordinate with the titled chapters. This is NOT the kind of playlist you should listen to WHILE YOU READ! In my opinion, the songs will be the most impactful after you have read the chapters. The playlist will help give you a deeper insight to the characters emotions and occasionally coincides with details of the chapters.
> 
> Playlist for Chapters 5,6&7: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PoHj5nfoi8&list=PLG0SYRVliS1jpqXfJ8ScDW1q7CyK3VQAG
> 
> This playlist is a transition from the last one to exploring more about how Sherlock and John are pining after one another and the insecurities that come along with it. there is also a section of it that consists of songs i think john would have playing at the bonfire!


	9. Endings Bring New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor John, i'm really putting him through it lol. As always, i hope you all enjoy this chapter, please don't hesitate to leave feedback- comments really fuel me! Stay safe and healthy!  
> Lots of love,  
> Anna
> 
> Keep up with me on twitter @OhHeyyItsAnna

When it came time for John to leave he lingered in Sherlock’s doorway, thinking of anything he possibly could to get a few more minutes with the raven-haired boy. The smirk on Sherlock’s face made it obvious he knew what John was doing. Ever so slowly, Sherlock teasingly leaned closer and closer to John, crouching down closer to the jock’s height-daring him to desire. John stared at the deep cupid's bow that waved across perfect pink lips, his own tongue darting out to wet his own; he cleared his throat, “One more won’t hurt right?” it was barely a whisper and hardly a question as John’s eyes started to close and lean forward.

“It’s your conscience.” Sherlock breathed back. Before he could inhale, John had closed the gap between them. This time Sherlock was prepared, moving his mouth to compliment John’s. Even though the summer heat was dying off and the evening had turned the air cold, Sherlock felt comfortably warm in this moment with John. This feeling, the one of his electric mind being at peace, he had only ever felt when he played his violin - but kissing John replicated it. Euphoric tranquility. Sherlock pulled back so slowly, as if it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, and it might have been. “Until next time?” he asked, catching his breath.

John nodded and licked the lingering traces of Sherlock from his lips, “Until next time.”

The next morning arrived far too quickly and John had fallen asleep texting Sherlock at ungodly hours of the morning, causing him to forget to set his alarm. While he was sound asleep the rest of his team were rinsing off from the morning workouts. Greg was shampooing his hair in the thin walled showers alongside a few of the other boys when he heard a voice that could only belong to Jim speak up. As far as Greg was concerned, Jim was an alright guy. He was pretty low in his ranking of favorite teammates, but he never had anything against him. He knew he had a reputation for being short tempered and was quick to get physically aggressive, but it never came out against him or the other players. “Do you all know that Sherlock kid?”

“The new guy from England?” another boy called over the sound of the showers.

“Yeah, did you know he’s a queer?” Jim asked, bold and unfiltered. The room stayed quiet for a moment and no one responded. “Anyway, Watson seems to be awful good friends with him.”

At the mention of John, Greg was quick to join in the conversation, “And what of it?”

“All I’m saying is I wouldn’t want my name tied to a fairy like that.” 

“John’s a nice guy, he’s friends with everybody.”

“Maybe so, but still it makes you wonder doesn’t it?” Jim shut off his shower and Greg did the same. Both wrapping a towel around their hips.

Greg made eye contact with Jim as he stepped into the main part of the locker room. “You’re not seriously implying- Jim, he’s dating Mary. You know, tall, blonde, beautiful, big tits, and legs for days.”

Jim laughed, “Yeah, yeah - I know all that. To be nice to the guy at school is fine, but he’s not the type I’d invite to a bonfire with my _ actual _ friends.”

Greg rolled his eyes and decided to let it go, this wasn’t a conversation worth his time. As he walked up the hill towards the school he saw John’s dark blue pickup speed into the parking lot and the sandy blonde jogged quickly to his side. “You look…well, a mess.” Greg said looking John up and down. His jeans were ripped a bit more than what you could call fashion and there were traces of dirt on his white t-shirt. “Why weren’t you at workouts?”

“Yeah I know; I overslept. Is Coach pissed?” John huffed.

“He actually wasn’t there this morning, so I guess you lucked out. I wouldn’t risk it again.”

“I won’t, I just forgot to set my alarm last night. I swear I nearly got pulled over on my way here I was driving so fast.”

Greg laughed, “Well, daredevil, you better get to class before Mrs. Whitton has your balls.”

“She wishes she could have them,” John winked.

“Gross,” Greg laughed hysterically as John ran off.

John set foot in the classroom right as the bell rang. “Mr. Watson, nice of you to join us.” She looked him over “And thanks for dressing up.”

“Only the best for you, Mrs. W.” he said under his breath as he made his way to the back of the class to his seat beside Sherlock who had one brow raised. Before Sherlock could ask John started to defend himself, but not about his appearance. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep texting you last night.”

Sherlock reached out and scratched at a speck of dried mud with his fingernail that was stuck to John’s sleeve. “Well, yes, I figured that out. Did you fall asleep in the field?”

“Haha, no. I was so late I grabbed the first pair of clothes off of my floor and rushed out the door.” John’s tone was unamused. “And of course it’s cold today and I look like a cheap escort.”

Sherlock laughed a bit too loud, drawing a glare from a few nearby students.

“You, however - look lovely.” 

Sherlock blushed furiously as the butterflies stirred in his stomach. “Is this the part where I say I’d give you my sweatshirt but I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

It was John’s turn to laugh, “it probably wouldn’t fit over my biceps anyway,” He joked back.

“It definitely wouldn’t.” Sherlock, however, was not joking. There was a sultry lure to his voice that made John swallow hard.

  
  


The rest of the week continued as usual, with flirty comments, longing stares and hundreds of text messages exchanged. Thursday afternoon John found himself sitting on the tailgate of his truck out in the field while Mary was practicing her cheer routine for Friday night’s season kickoff game. He was supposed to be watching. Any other man would have killed to be in his place, but he was glued to his phone texting Sherlock. 

“Are you paying any attention to me? Why are you so obsessed with your phone all of the sudden?” She tried to pull it from his hands, but he gripped tighter. A look of worried anger rushed over her face, “Who are you texting!?” she reached for his phone again and he willingly handed it over - not wanting her mind to run any further than it already had.

“Sherlock, telling him I can’t make tutoring tomorrow because of the game.” To his relief Mary took one glance that It really was Sherlock’s contact and handed the phone back to him. She pulled herself onto the bed of the truck and pushed John onto his back before swinging her legs over either side of him and coming to rest dangerously close to his center. He laughed good naturedly and let his hands drag up the sides of her waist. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that. It’s just - you’ve seemed so distracted lately.” She said with a sad tone and small frown. John felt guilty - truly he did. Mary was a great person and the last who should be hurt by his complicated debate of sexuality, but it was inevitable she would get hurt. 

“I know, I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately.” John brushed a piece of golden blonde hair behind her ear. 

She shook her head, causing the piece of hair to dangle once more, “No, you shouldn’t apologize. You’ve been preparing for your future and the team…you’re so driven, it’s one of the things I love about you.” She leaned down and kissed him, slowly grinding her body against his.

Two months ago, he would have replied that he loved her too and then relished in the offered attention, but now… now he felt like he was cheating on Sherlock. There was no winning. He kisses Sherlock, he feels guilty for Mary - he kisses Mary and he feels bad for Sherlock. His body undeniably liked the attention it was getting from Mary as blood rushed to his groin. She expertly removed his belt from its buckle, the same way she had done a hundred or so times before and kissed down his neck as her hand reached beneath his boxers. He sighed, but it was indistinguishable whether it was one of arousal or guilt. What was one more time?

A few miles down the road Sherlock finally abandoned his phone to have dinner with his family, figuring John got distracted. And he had, but in a way he didn’t wish to know.

  
  


The next morning as he and Sherlock walked from chemistry class, John casually put a hand on Sherlock’s thin shoulder, he had been doing this a lot since their conversation at the beginning of the week- finding all kinds of little excuses to casually touch Sherlock while at school. “Are you coming to the game tonight?”

“I wasn’t planning on it, why?”

“It’s the first game of the season, you’re not excited?”

Sherlock just shrugged.

“Well, I’ll be there of course, and I’d love it if you came.” He spoke a little quieter.

Sherlock felt his heart lift, John wanted him there. “Okay.”

“Okay, you’ll come?” 

A nod.

John smiled widely, “See you there, it starts at seven.”

Sherlock waved and picked up his pace to English class.

He had convinced Molly, who was still unaware of the full context of the conversation he and John had had, that she absolutely must accompany him to the football game tonight.

“I don’t even like football,” She whined “and neither do you. You just want to go gawk at John.”

“Shhhh… keep your voice down. I do not gawk.”

“You do; but fine. You owe me.”

  
  
  


Sherlock and Molly arrived at the stadium nearly a half hour early, but realized they were already late by high school standards. The student section was already filled with other students decked out in their school colors. Several girls had red, black, and white dots near their eyes while the guys wore school shirts and sports jerseys from other school sponsored sports. Sherlock had a soft knit sweater and jeans on while Molly sported leggings and a school hoodie. 

They were fine when the sun was still peeking out from behind the hills, but as it disappeared so did the heat from their bodies. Many other students had brought blankets and were cuddled together, obviously not their first time at a football game. Molly and Sherlock held one another comfortably close and even got a few sweet smiles from those around them who obviously assumed they were a couple. Molly blushed when she noticed and even harder when Sherlock decided to play along by pressing a kiss to her temple, smirking when a few people whispered about it.

The team finally took the field and Sherlock watched with a fond intensity as John made plays. He sympathetically tensed his muscles every time John hit or got hit by another player. How was that fun in any way? Sherlock had no idea how the game worked but couldn’t help feeling excited and…proud? when he saw their team’s score climb above the opponents. Their team ended up winning by five points and the stands flooded on to the field to congratulate their players. 

Molly hugged Sherlock goodbye and began the walk to her car, eager to get out of the cold. Sherlock made his way onto the turf, just in time to see Mary run into John’s arms and wrap her legs around his middle. He set her down and dipped her into a long kiss. Sherlock was sure he felt his heart crack. He knew they were still together, but there was a difference in knowing their relationship existed and watching it play out in front of him. To watch and wish it was him instead of Mary. When John pulled her back upright his eyes met Sherlock’s, the look on the Brit’s face was undeniably one of pain. John’s smile fell as Sherlock mustered up a fake one. He passed by him and awkwardly punched the shorter man’s shoulder through its padding, “Good job out there.” Sherlock quickened his pace until he was out of John’s field of view before sprinting towards Molly’s car. Thank goodness she was always determined to start the perfect playlist before driving anywhere or else she would have been long gone. Sherlock knocked on the passenger window, scaring Molly, but then her gasp turned to giggles. She unlocked the door, “Jeez, you scared me. What’s up?”

Sherlock’s voice was choked by the lump in his throat, “Can you take me home?”

Her face scrunched up in confusion, “I thought you were going to have John take you home?” When he stayed silent her face softened, “Yeah, of course. Get in, it’s cold.”

He put on his seatbelt and turned on the heated seat, curling into its warmth. Soft music played as Molly started the drive to Sherlock’s house, a good 20 minutes out of the way from her own. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked cautiously, and Sherlock shook his head. When they got to his house neither one of them moved. Molly finally broke the silence, “Do you want me to stay?” 

The tears Sherlock had fought back all the way home welled up and spilled over as a heavy sob wrecked his body. He nodded quickly as Molly was already wrapping him in a tight hug. “Oh babe, don’t- don’t cry. You’ll make me cry. Here, just let me text my mom.” She let go of him as he tried to compose himself. Why did this simple act, a kiss, something he had watched John and Mary do time and time again, why did it hurt so bad? Perhaps ignorance really was bliss. If he never knew John’s feelings, maybe it wouldn’t be this way. Molly’s mother worked the night shift as a pediatric nurse and was able to respond to her text rather quickly, giving Molly the ok to stay over. Sherlock gave Molly some sweats to sleep in as he reigned in the last of his tears. He crawled into bed, only bothering to remove his jeans before sliding under the covers. Molly climbed in behind him and wrapped an arm over his waist, hugging him tight to her. “What happened?” her voice was soft but had an assertiveness to it. The dam of secrets Sherlock had pent up this past week broke and he spilled every detail, every emotion the past five days had brought and how they came crashing down in a matter of seconds.

  
  


John had never felt more ashamed of himself as when he saw Sherlock’s face pulling away from Mary. High on adrenaline he did as he had for the past 3 years and kissed her after winning a game, but this time his act of habit seemed to devastate his star-crossed lover. As Sherlock walked away from him he knew tonight had to be the night, he had to end it with Mary. As per usual, the team and their friends went out to Steak N’ Shake for late night food, laughs, and milkshakes. John was only half engaged in the conversations, forcing smiles and faking laughs as he moved his food around more than he ate it. 

His mind preoccupied with what he was going to say to Mary. His thumb rubbed absentmindedly up and down the smooth skin of her thigh that peaked below the skirt of her uniform; he knew this would probably be the last time he would ever do this. The last time he would hold her hand, kiss her, share laughs and teasing comments - everything he had known for the past three years was about to be gone. He wasn’t sure if he was internally mourning the potential loss of Mary being in his life, or the familiarity that she brought with her. There was so much they had endured together, so much of him laid within her that he feared the loss of the friendship they had built. He loved her, he did. But he knew months ago he was no longer  _ in  _ love with her. Their relationship had felt as if it had hit its potential - plateaued and no longer had anywhere to go. It was comfortably stagnant. The breakup was, in all honesty, inevitable. He loved Mary but knew - long before Sherlock- she wasn’t who he saw himself building a life with. He always thought it would end when they went their separate ways after graduation, never at the start of arguably the most important year of their high school lives. The reason for the breakup remained true no matter what, he can’t pretend to be in love with someone when he isn’t, but now it seemed tainted by the fact he was undeniably falling in love with the boy from across the pond.

The drive back to Mary’s house was quiet. John’s stomach did flips the entire way, little did he know so did Mary’s. She knew something felt off. John held her hand a little tighter than usual, brought it to his lips a few times too many, and avoided looking at her. It all felt too real when he pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine on his truck. She knew. She felt her hands clam up and her heart beat a little faster. She silently begged John to say something, but when he didn’t - she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Are you- do you want to talk about something?” 

Her small voice fell painfully on John’s ears. He held his breath and finally turned to look at her. When he did, his lip began to tremble, he watched tears pool in her eyes as he begged his own not to fall. “Mary…” he choked out so quietly he wasn’t sure he actually spoke.

“This is the talk isn’t it?” she asked, already knowing the answer. Tears fell from her blue eyes quietly. She didn’t sob, didn’t heave, or sniffle; just let the tears fall as they came. John was still holding her hand and reached up to wipe away a saltwater droplet with the thumb of his other. He nodded and a tear of his own splashed onto the leather of the center console.

“Mary, I’m so sorry. I am. I love you. You have meant and do mean so much to me, but I think our relationship has run its course. I think we need to break up.” He composed himself ever so slightly now that the initial buildup was on a downward crescendo. 

“I know. I’ve known for a while.” This time it was her who sniffled loudly. “I love you too, John. You have been… a great boyfriend and the best friend I could have ever asked for. I wanted us to work so bad.”

John looked up as if asking the tears to drain back into his skull, “Me too, me too. God, this is hard. I don’t want to lose the friend I have in you, Mary. I, I think the world of you, I do, and want absolutely nothing but the best for you, and-”

“Then let’s not make this harder than it already is.” She wiped a tear from her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “I’ve had a great three years as your girlfriend, you’ve been good for me and no one will ever convince me otherwise.”

“You too.” John interrupted and Mary gave a sad smile followed by a small sob and nod.

“I have no anger towards you, none. I always have and always will only have love for who you are.” She continued and John let one loud heave overtake him as he gasped in air. What did he ever do to deserve someone like Mary? “so let’s stay friends. I know everyone says it, and then no one actually does it; but there is no reason we shouldn’t be able to be friends. I would love to make it work if you-”

“Yes, yes, of course I want to stay friends.” John pulled her into a hug, and they stayed like that for several minutes. When they finally pulled away John dug some napkins out from the console and offered some to Mary as he wiped the tear stains from his own cheeks. 

“Can I ask you something… and will you promise to be honest with me?” she stared up at him with pleading eyes. He nodded. “Is there somebody else?” 

John closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek before slowly nodding his head. He willed his eyes to open and to meet hers. Her expression hadn’t changed. “Answer me one more thing?” 

“Okay.” He whispered.

Mary rubbed her fingers nervously, “It’s  _ him _ , isn’t it?” 

The silence felt tangible. John was shocked but he didn’t feel shocked - everything felt so numb right now. “Yeah…it is.” He whispered and sniffled.

There were no longer tears in Mary’s eyes, but they never left his. “Okay. That’s…fine. It really is.”

“Mary, I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head. “You don’t owe me an apology. In fact, I don’t want an apology.” She reached out and held one of his hands, “You don’t ever have to apologize to me for who you love. I was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of it for a long time, and it was good. Whoever you love next, if it’s a boy or another girl - they are lucky to be loved by someone like John Watson.” John broke, the tears were free falling and it was all he could do to blot them away with the crumpled napkin. Mary stayed quiet for a moment. “And I assume not many people know about this…it’s not my place to tell anyone either. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you.” John squeezed her hand and she hugged him one last time, whispering words of reassurance. 

“I’m going to head inside now, but John, if you ever want to talk about anything- I’m here for you, always.” She lowered herself from the cab. 

Before she could close the door John spoke up, “Hey, Mary…” her gaze met his “I’m the lucky one.” She smiled as best she could before closing the door and walking to her porch. John watched to make sure she made it in safely and flicked the porch light off. When that bulb flickered off it felt like a final close to their relationship.

  
  


It was a few minutes after midnight, John couldn't go home and sleep knowing he had unintentionally hurt Sherlock. So, he sent him a text asking if he was alright, even though he knew the answer. Sherlock and Molly had deviated from talking about John, and were back to giggling at one another's comments about whatever conversation they were caught up in at that moment. Sherlock's phone buzzed. He read the message to Molly who advised him to leave it until morning. John would probably think he was asleep anyway. A few minutes later he almost was asleep when the device chimed again. Through hooded eyes he read yet another message from John.

“I’m in your driveway.”

His eyes shot open and he felt adrenaline course through his veins. He turned in the bed quickly, jolting Molly from her half-asleep state. “What?” she asked.

“John is here, like right now. What do I do?!” he felt panicked and Molly just stared at him.

“Go talk to him?”

The answer seemed so obvious, but the petty side of Sherlock’s personality wanted to continue pretending to be asleep. He tugged on a pair of sweatpants and using his phone as a flashlight crept down the stairs, careful not to wake his parents. John was standing outside, leaning against his truck. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Sherlock gave a small wave that probably wouldn’t even be seen in the dark of the night. He wrapped his arms around himself casually, trying to conserve body heat.

“You ran off quickly after the game…” John’s tone was layered with disappointment.

“Yeah, I saw you were…busy. I didn’t want to bother you.”

John frowned and let the sound of the crickets play for a moment. “I broke up with Mary. Tonight. Just a few minutes ago really, before I came here.” 

Part of Sherlock was elated, wanted to throw himself onto John and pepper him with kisses; but he knew that would be a bit not good. “Are you okay?”

John nodded, “I will be. It went better than I anticipated honestly. We’re still friends - or at least we are going to try to be. Mary - she’s incredible.”

“That’s good.” It was pathetic but Sherlock didn’t really know what else to say. What do you say when the person you have fallen for is hurting at your expense? 

“She knows.” John said quietly and Sherlock met his gaze. “She knows that I like you, a lot.” They both couldn’t help the smile that spread across their faces. “She said she isn’t going to say anything, and I trust that she won’t.” John saw Sherlock shiver. “Here, get in,” he said, opening the back seat door of the cab. Sherlock looked up to the glow of his bedroom window where he could see the outline of Molly’s figure staring down at him. John took notice and laughed, “Couldn’t go home with me so you brought a girl home with you?” he teased. Sherlock gently slapped his chest as he climbed into the cab, “It’s just Molly. I probably shouldn’t leave in the middle of the night.”

“We’re not going anywhere. I just wanted to get you out of the cold.” John hesitated for a moment “I’m sorry if I hurt you tonight, I didn’t mean for you to see that…not that I was trying to hide it or anyth-“ he rambled.

“John, it’s fine. You were kissing your girlfriend. I’ve seen you kiss her before, it’s fine- I mean I’m not your boyfriend. But yeah, it hurt a bit more tonight. I should have handled it better though.”

“Still, I’m sorry.” John reached and held one of Sherlock’s hands in his own, feeling the cold skin against him. “Jesus, you’re freezing.” He took Sherlock by surprise, wrapping his strong hands around Sherlock delicate ones and willing them to warm up. 

They talked for nearly an hour more before Sherlock began yawning and insisted he should go to bed. “Would you want to come over tomorrow and watch a movie or something with me?” Sherlock asked, John still holding his hands.

The other boy smiled, “Are you asking me on a date?” he teased.

“You wish.” 

They smirked, “Yeah, I’d love to. Text me what time you want me.” John said letting go of Sherlock’s hand. “Goodnight, Sherlock.”

“Goodnight, John.”

He walked inside, relishing the feeling of warmth in the house but missing John’s touch. He crawled back into bed with an already sleeping Molly and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

John drove back in a state of peaceful silence, for once the radio wasn’t gently singing in the background - only the gentle hum of the engine whispered through his ears. It wasn’t until his head hit the pillow that he realized how tired he was, not just tired - but exhausted, in every sense of the word. Physically from tonight’s game but more so from the rip current of emotions he had been through this evening. He couldn’t help but wonder how Mary was and hurt for his lost relationship. He may have been the one to end it, and with good reason, but it hurt to know she would no longer be a staple figure in his life - at least not in the way she once was. So often people only sympathize with the person who was broken up with, when it hurts the other just the same. He made a mental note to text her tomorrow. 

As he began to slowly drift into an unconscious state he thought of Sherlock and how everything was about to change. It was a waiting game. John was drifting from the shoreline into a dark, looming abyss of unknowns. The uncertainties lingered in the murky waters like sharks waiting for the perfect time to strike. How long could John straddle the edge of the drop off, the edge of secrecy and deceit? How long until one false move pulled him into those unknown waters and left him for dead? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor John, i'm really putting him through it lol. As always, i hope you all enjoy this chapter, please don't hesitate to leave feedback- comments really fuel me! Stay safe and healthy!  
> Lots of love,  
> Anna
> 
> Keep up with me on twitter @OhHeyyItsAnna
> 
> THIS UPDATE WAS MADE MARCH 4,2021- This story now has a playlist of songs that will coordinate with the titled chapters. This is NOT the kind of playlist you should listen to WHILE YOU READ! In my opinion, the songs will be the most impactful after you have read the chapters. The playlist will help give you a deeper insight to the characters emotions and occasionally coincides with details of the chapters.
> 
> Playlist for chapters 8 (Endings Bring New Beginnings), 9 (Tailgate), and 10 (Recruiters and Revelations): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFEH0rOBhY4&list=PLG0SYRVliS1i2MKQdzkxDgJDEN3ifYAbp
> 
> This playlist helps add to the feelings of excitement and aspect of relief that Sherlock and John are experiencing now that their feelings have been made known to one another. One of the chapters is also named after one of the songs for obvious reasons haha!


	10. Tailgate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy update day! I hope you all are doing well and have a fabulous rest of the week! As always, please dont hesitate to leave feedback- comments always make my day! Stay safe and healthy!  
> Lots of love,  
> Anna
> 
> Keep up with me on twitter: @OhHeyyItsAnna

John awoke with a text from Sherlock, a tired smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Good morning. 15:30 work for you? -SH”

John rolled his eyes as he googled what time 15:30 was in regular time…3:30pm.

“Good morning to you too. Yes, I’ll see you then.”

John sent his reply before begrudgingly pulling himself out of bed and to the field to begin his task of harvesting the tobacco. For the first time in his life his father had shelled out the extra money to get a machine harvester rather than having to hire several people. John had never been so grateful for technology as he was when he climbed into the cab of the machine and put his headphones in as he carefully guided the harvester through the rows. Besides driving all he could think about was Sherlock. When he thought about their impending ‘date’ in a few hours it seemed as if a pit opened up low in his stomach. Sure, he had felt nervous around Sherlock before, but not like this. This was a new feeling, something that felt like a combination of dread and anticipation. 

After a few hours of work John was able to stop and head back to the house for lunch. His mother questioned him about last night’s game and how the new machine worked. 

“Are you going to get some more hours in after you eat?” she asked, sitting down across from him.

He shook his head, “No, I’m headed over to Sherlock’s.” He watched as one of her eyebrows cocked in disapproval. He bit his cheek to keep from making a face back at her.

“You don’t normally meet for tutoring on Saturdays...” Her accent drawing out her words in an unusual way that made John cringe.

“We aren’t- I’m not going over for tutoring.” He watched her expression grow even more confused. “We’re friends, I don’t need a reason to go hang out with him.”

She sighed but nodded in agreement, “Choose your friends wisely, John.”

“Sherlock’s about as wise as they come.” He remarked with a dry chuckle, but his mother wasn’t amused in the slightest.

“You know what I’m saying. Your friends are a direct reflection of you.”

The words felt like touching the hot cattle brander to his cheek. He wanted to fire back at her, surprising himself once more at how protective and defensive he had become over Sherlock’s name.

John showered, taking a few extra minutes to pleasure himself, hoping to take preventative measures against another awkward situation. He wicked away the majority of the wetness in his hair with a towel and began trying to figure out what to wear. Dressing himself suddenly felt like the most difficult challenge he had ever been faced with. He didn't want to look too comfortable by wearing sweatpants, even though they were just watching a movie. He stared aimlessly into his closet; little did he know Sherlock was doing the same.

Time drew closer and Sherlock was frantically picking up a few loose items around the house and waiting for the popcorn to finish in the microwave. He had already set out a few soft drinks for John to choose from and was waiting on the kettle to fix himself a cup of tea when the doorbell sounded. The knock finally came. Sherlock abandoned the kettle and answered the door with shaking hands.  _ Compose yourself, it’s just John.  _ Sigh.  _ John _ . John stood with his hands in his pockets and Sherlock could tell he was every bit as nervous as he was. Something about this being a date had sent the both of them to the edge of anxiety. Looking at the American all his nerves seemed to fade away, a feeling that was similar to taking a blanket out of the dryer on a cold day. That was John. They shared smiles and hello’s as Sherlock invited him inside. “Just give me a minute to finish fixing my tea and then we can start a movie.”

“What movie are we watching?” John asked leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Oh um, I hadn’t picked one actually. Thought we could choose something together.” 

John just nodded, watching Sherlock carefully pour the hot water into a mug. “Where are your parents?”

“At the college; probably won’t be back until this evening - something about cyanobacteria was being presented.”

“Oh.” John paused. “Do they know I’m here?”

Sherlock looked over his shoulder, “No, why? You’ve been here plenty of times before.”

“Well yes, but that was before…” John didn’t know what to call him and Sherlock, so he opted to make a weird waving motion between the two of them.

“Mmm, I see.” Sherlock tested his drink. “Well, I hardly think they would care but even if they did - they don’t know about _ this _ yet.” He said, mocking the hand motion John had used.

John laughed. “Alright then.”

When they took a seat on the couch, it became painfully obvious that unlike Sherlock, John’s nerves were still very present. He had sat down nearly at the opposite end, leaving space for two people and Jesus between him and Sherlock. He had sat closer to him as friends than what they were now. Sherlock gave him a confused look but didn’t push it. They decided on the Christopher Nolan film  _ Dunkirk _ since neither of them had seen it and had heard only good things. 

The gap between Sherlock and John seemed to feel bigger and more obvious the more time passed. They were only fifteen minutes into the film when Sherlock couldn’t stand it anymore. He stood from his seat and made an excuse about needing more honey in his tea. When he came back, he rounded the end of the couch that John was closest to and sat down only about half a foot from him who let out a long sigh that was followed by a breathy laugh, “I’m sorry. It’s just- I feel-”

Sherlock shook his head, stopping him, “It’s fine.” 

It wasn’t long before John was mentally arguing with himself whether to wrap his arm around Sherlock or not. If it was Mary - if it was any girl - he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Was it different because it was another boy, or was it different because this boy mattered so much to him? He swallowed down the tension and let his arm come to rest on Sherlock’s back. Fear consumed him when Sherlock leaned forward, away from his touch to place his mug on the coffee table in front of them. But a wave of relief washed away his fears when the raven-haired boy readjusted himself on the couch, curling into John’s side and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” Sherlock asked softly.

“Very okay.” John tightened his grip “It’s ridiculous - I’ve kissed you but I’m nervous to hold you.” He laughed.

Sherlock shrugged but kept his eyes fixed on the screen before them, “It’s unconventional, but there are no set way relationships play out - so I’m told.”

“Would you be offended if I said I’d like a redo on our first kiss?” 

Sherlock looked up at him, silently begging John to finish his thought.

“You know… not without your consent while I was dating someone else and then ran away…”

Sherlock broke into a goofy grin that John soon matched. 

“I guess I could make an exception and give you a redo on that. Where would you like our first kiss to be?”

“Hmm.” John pretended to think. “Somewhere quiet, a place we are both relaxed…it doesn’t have to be in an extravagant location, somewhere like here.”

“Here?”

“Here.”

“Now?” Sherlock asked in almost a whisper.

“Now. If that’s okay with you…” 

Sherlock nodded as John looked down into his eyes and slowly brought his lips to his own. Sherlock watched as John’s eyes closed and let his own follow suit. It was like soft rose petals intertwining, everything about this moment felt right. The explosive sounds from the movie were forgotten, all they could hear was the soft breaths between them. John kept his arm around Sherlock’s shoulders and brought his other hand to rest on the boy’s waist line. The inexplicable first kiss feeling that people have written plays, poems, songs, and movies about… What he was feeling right now with John had to be that feeling. John reluctantly pulled back, only slightly, his nose still touching Sherlock’s.

“You don’t get a redo for that.” Sherlock swallowed; eyes fixed on the man above him.

“I don’t need one. Can I get a replay?” the teasing remark rolled off his tongue.

“As many times as you want.” Sherlock crashed into the American, slotting their lips together for an extended version of the previous kiss. They spent the next hour or so back and forth between watching the film and gentle kisses. John wasn’t surprised with how quickly Sherlock seemed to perfect the art of kissing him. He had seemingly already worked out and memorized what John liked and what he didn’t- of course he had that figured out - he was Sherlock. Neither of them dared to slip any tongue in yet, but it seemed to be building to that point when Sherlock had leaned further back to the seat of the sofa, pulling John along with him. 

The side door to the living room opened and John’s eyes flew open to see Mr. Holmes with an equally shocked expression standing at its threshold. He immediately scrambled off of Sherlock, “Mr. Holmes, I—I’m so sorry. Um, we were- I was.” John continued to stammer as Mrs. Holmes came in carrying her laptop and files, “Oh, John! How nice to see you!”

John cleared his throat, “You too. Um, I should be going- I’m sorry.”

“No,” the two parents said simultaneously before laughing, “Please stay - we’ve brought back Chinese and could never finish it all on our own.” Mrs. Holmes finished.

John agreed to stay, much to Sherlock’s relief. While the Holmes’s unpacked the rest of their things from the lab the two boys set out plates and silverware. John’s hands weren’t as steady as usual and his breathing was noticeably labored.

“John...”

“Hmm?”

“It’s okay you know.” Sherlock said softly and the blonde looked up to meet his eyes “What happened with my dad. He doesn’t care, I mean…he’s known for a while I’ve liked you.”

John shook his head, “Still… it’s just- it’s not that simple for me, Sherlock.” his tone was laden with emotion. “What if they say something to my parents. My parents can’t know, not right now… Maybe not ever.”

The last words struck a nerve in Sherlock, but he disregarded them for the time being, taking note of how obviously bothered John was. “I’ll talk with them as soon as you leave. Certainly, you don’t think so low of my parents that they would out you-”

“No, no; you know I think a lot of your family. I’m just scared or nervous. Probably both.” 

“I’ll talk to them.” Sherlock took a step closer to John, who reached out and held the darker haired boy’s hand; running his thumb soothingly over his pale knuckles.

Their little dinner was filled with light conversation and easy laughs as they exchanged banter over events of school and work. John relaxed into the comfortable atmosphere the Holmes family had created and brushed away the sadness of having to return to a home where everything felt tense, that every step was taken on eggshells.

The moon was almost at its peak in the dark sky when John finally left. Sherlock had walked him to his truck and John stole a kiss or two before reluctantly driving away. It wasn’t until he felt the soreness in his jaw that he realized how much he had smiled and laughed all evening.

Sherlock’s father was loading the dishwasher when Sherlock sat down next to his mother who was quickly typing at the keys on her laptop. He leaned his head on her shoulder and the clicking stopped. She looked down at her smiling child, unable and un-wanting to stop the soft smile that played on her lips. She wrapped an arm around him and kissed his head through soft dark curls, “Had a good day?” she asked and watched her son’s smile double in size as he nodded. There was no need to ask what had made his day so good, she knew. The all-American boy from down the road had disassembled the brick walls around her son’s heart. He was the kind of person she feared Sherlock would encounter when they moved here, but now she felt immense guilt for letting those stereotypes infiltrate her judgement. Romantic interest or not- she was grateful for John Watson. She locked eyes with her husband who looked at the pair with fondness. It was moments like these he wished he could capture and frame, but even if he had his camera and took the picture - it wouldn’t do justice to the feeling that was present in their little kitchen. 

When Sherlock straightened his posture once more and the warm glow of the family moment began to fade, his father let himself bring up the elephant in the room. At least the elephant that  _ he _ was thinking about, “Sherlock, I think we should talk about what I saw earlier.” His wife looked quickly in his direction, confused. “However, if you would like to wait and discuss it in the morning that’s fine too.”

Sherlock just shrugged, “We can talk about it now. I was going to bring it up soon anyway.”

“Would someone like to fill me in?” his mother piped up.

The two men shared a look waiting to see which one of them was going to speak first. Mr. Holmes cleared his throat, “Everything is fine darling, it’s just when I came in this evening, I walked into John and Sherlock sharing a bit of a kiss on our couch.”

Her eyebrows shot high on her face in a look of shock before breaking into a huge smile, “Oh, Sherlock, that’s wonderful.” He blushed profusely at his mother’s excitement. “Why did you keep this from us?”

“I wasn’t. It only happened a few days ago, officially last night I guess.” He mumbled, looking towards the floor. “John isn’t…out. Only to me and his ex-girlfriend and I guess the two of you now but, he isn’t ready to tell people. Especially not his family; he is really worried about how they are going to react and, Dad, when you saw us it shook him up pretty bad. I wanted to ask you all to please not talk about John to anyone in the context of whatever our relationship is, most importantly not to his family.”

“Of course, my love. We can definitely see John’s concerns. He always has a safe space in our home and if he ever needs anything make sure to tell him he is welcome here.” Mrs. Holmes let her hand come to rest on her sons, “Sherlock, I know you really like John. I also know him liking you back has been the best-case scenario stuff of dreams for you for the past several weeks… But are you sure you want to be in a relationship where you’re going to have to hide?”

Sherlock was nearing taking offense to her question. Of course, he was sure, he was a sixteen-year-old genius, he had thought about this for hours upon hours. “Of course. It’s not like I would be one to flaunt any relationship I was in.”

His mother pursed her lips but nodded, letting the subject go. “Well, we are very happy for you and John both.” 

“Given the two of you are no longer just friends and study buddies, John should stop coming over here when one of us isn’t around.” His father took a seat across from them at the table.

Sherlock’s face scrunched up, “Why?” before his father could answer he spoke up again. “Dad, that makes no sense. Why does John and I dating change anything?”

“it just does. It would be irresponsible of any parent to let their teenage child be unsupervised with a romantic partner. It just opens up opportunities for things - accidents - to happen that could be prevented if-”

“Wh- accidents? It’s not like I’m going to get pregnant.” Sherlock fired and his parents cringed slightly “And since when have you all done things like ‘normal’ parents? Having this conversation with Mycroft, I could understand, but with me…have you forgotten the ‘drawer’ talk?”

Oh, the ‘drawer’ talk. While it was an extremely progressive idea on the Holmes parents’ part, it was an hour of agony for Mycroft and Sherlock. it occurred on the same day each of them had been given ‘the talk’, yes, THE talk. After explaining all the mechanics, risks, and safety precautions of sexual intercourse they informed the boys that there was a locked drawer in the living room that they would keep stocked with non-expired condoms, plan B, and a few other sexual wellness items. Each of them was given a key to it and the intention was when they felt ready to be sexually active, they could take what they needed from the drawer, no questions asked. They were also encouraged to offer to friends if they needed it. It was truly a perfect way to open communication with their child and provide them with needed resources in a comfortable, noninvasive way. Sex wasn’t considered a taboo subject in their household, but let’s be honest no one wants to talk with their parents about sex.

His parents were quiet looking between each other and their son, “Shit- he’s right.” His mom laughed. His father closed his eyes at her crude language, slowly taking her glass of wine from its spot next to her and finishing the rest of it.

“Well, in that case I suppose just use common courtesy and remember other people live here.”

“Dad, God - please stop. We’ve been together less than a day-”

“I’m just saying-”

“Please stop saying.” Sherlock stood from the table, “This has been a  _ great _ conversation, but I’m going to bed now…unless there is something else we absolutely must talk about.” As soon as he saw them shake their heads, he bolted up the stairs.

  
  


The next morning in chemistry class Sherlock attempted to whisper about the conversation he had with his parents, but John was quick to tense up and shut him down. “We can’t talk about stuff like that here.” He had told the younger boy, flushed at the very thought of someone overhearing them, but when they were back in John’s truck or in the comfort of Sherlock’s home, it was a different story. The next couple of weeks it was hand holding and long kisses, cuddles on the couch and fond smiles across the dinner table. It was the kind of budding romance that inspired the most beautiful songs and poems. 

One particularly memorable evening of euphoric bliss was on a rather cold evening. John had been overwhelmed all week between school, football, farm work, and most recently organizing events for the National Honor Society. A college football recruiter would be coming to one of their games in a few weeks, specifically to watch John, which meant even more practice and workouts. With the whirlwind of events happening, he had very little time to see Sherlock for more than their usual tutoring sessions. John had sent him a few quick texts, that he also promptly deleted from his own phone, that he missed Sherlock; but Sherlock  _ really _ missed him by the end of the week. 

It was Saturday afternoon and John had been loading bales of hay onto a trailer nearly all day and was getting ready to work out when his phone buzzed. He had changed his text settings so that the message itself wouldn’t appear, only the person’s name, after a close call with Greg picking up his phone in the locker room.

“Can I see you today? -SH”

John sighed, feeling guilty for the answer he was about to send back.

“It’s getting late…I’m about to work out and then take care of the animals. I’m sorry.”

His thumb hovered over his screen and almost hit send before he decided to tack on “babe” at the very end. It wasn’t often he called Sherlock pet names; he was reluctant to make a habit of it for a fear it might slip out in public.

“If I come to you, will you see me?”

John chuckled,  “Yes, yes, come over. You might not have much fun though.”

“Watching you work out? Can’t think of anything more exciting. -SH”

John rolled his eyes,  _ ever the flirt _ , he thought as he started a steady jog on the treadmill. He had worked up a bit of a sweat by the time dark curls in emerged from the stairs that led down to the basement. He smiled widely, realizing just how much he had missed seeing the Brit. “Who let you in?” John asked confused, not remembering anyone being home.

“Your sister.” Sherlock said setting his laptop on the ground and walking towards the treadmill. John paused the machine and leaned over to give Sherlock what was supposed to be a brief kiss. When Sherlock put a hand onto his bicep he had to linger just a bit longer, “I’ve missed you.” John whispered, pulling away. 

Sherlock smiled and bit his bottom lip slightly, “Missed you too, a lot.” His accent made John grin and he thought Sherlock’s voice sounded a bit deeper than usual. 

John leaned over for one more kiss, “I really do have to stick to my schedule this evening. As much as I would love to continue this-”

“Yes, yes, I know. Continue, I’ll just sit over here and admire you.” Sherlock joked and John laughed good naturedly. Sherlock sat down, resting his back against the wall and pulled his laptop from its case. He was typing up essays for potential universities he wanted to attend, occasionally sneaking glances at John. His glances turned more into unabashed stares when John moved to the weightlifting bench and began bench pressing what seemed to be an absurd amount of weight. Sherlock was sure it had to be at least double his own body weight. He pressed the end of his pen to his mouth and let it lightly drag between his lips as he watched John’s muscles contract. 

In this midst of his appreciation for his boyfriend he felt hyper aware of how frail he looked in comparison. Weightlifting or having defined muscles had never been something he was interested in, but he felt inadequate next to the blonde and began to wonder if John thought the same. Would he like him better if he bulked up a bit? 

John sat up, face slightly flushed, “Whatcha thinking about?”

The question pulled Sherlock from his trance, “oh, nothing.”

“That’s bullshit, you’re always thinking about something.” He smiled and bent to pick up his water bottle next to Sherlock.

“It’s silly, more stupid really.”

“A stupid thought had by Sherlock Holmes. Now I’m dying to hear it.”

Sherlock huffed, “I was just thinking, wondering, I guess if you would…be more attracted to me if I wasn’t so…twiggy.” He looked up and John’s face was twisted into one of confusion. “I just mean - you’re so strong and athletic and I’m just…not.”

“Sherlock, I don’t know if it’s humanly possible to be more attracted to you than I already am. What’s brought this on?”

Sherlock shrugged, “I don’t know. Just watching you and thinking about all of your friends and how they look, I can’t help but wonder if you’d rather be with someone who looks like, I don’t know, say…Greg.” His tone was soft in an almost embarrassed or ashamed kind of way that tugged at the strings of John’s heart. He felt like this might be the first time he witnessed Sherlock feel insecure. 

Nonetheless he couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, “Did you really just ask if I would rather be with Greg?” 

Sherlock broke a smile and playfully swatted at John’s leg, “Someone who  _ looks _ more like him.”

John reached out his hand and easily pulled Sherlock into an upright position. He listened carefully for any footsteps above them before pulling the younger boy close to his chest and cupping the side of his face, “I want to be with you and I think you are gorgeous exactly how you are.” He kissed him so softly, he wondered if their lips had even brushed.

“So, you don’t want me to start lifting weights and taking shots of pre-workout?”

John chuckled again and hugged the Brit closer, “Only if it’s something you want to do for yourself. I’ll think you’re hot no matter what.” He could almost feel Sherlock’s eyes roll as the words left his mouth. “Alright, I need to head out to the other farm. You want to come with me?” Sherlock nodded quickly and packed up his stuff. “I would shower for you, but I’m just going to get dirty out there, so I don’t see much use in it.”

Sherlock shrugged and took John’s hand, “It’s fine.”

“You always smell good enough for the both of us anyways. What do you wear?” John asked genuinely curious as he remembered how long he had lusted over Sherlock’s scent.

“The best things are kept secret, John Watson.” Sherlock teased, fully conscious of how much John liked the scent of his perfume.

“So, you’re not going to tell me?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“Give me a hint?” John pushed as they walked up the stairs.

“Nope. Maybe one day.” Sherlock said with a squeeze to the Americans hand. When they reached the top landing, John dropped Sherlock’s hand and the darker haired boy felt his smile drop a little with it. 

They walked through the house to the garage and John grabbed his Carhartt jacket off one of the hooks. “It’s pretty cold out, do you want to borrow a jacket?” Sherlock was wearing a long-sleeved lavender Taylor Swift hoodie; he had hardly taken the thing off since it had arrived.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

John shook his head and grabbed another one of his jackets, “I’m bringing an extra one. You said that last time and I ended up giving you mine, it’s too cold for that now.”

“Maybe I just like wearing your jacket.” Sherlock reached out and accepted the clothing from John, not putting it on yet. John just smiled at the comment and climbed into his truck.

After they reached the farm, it wasn’t long before Sherlock was putting on the extra layer of clothing and following John around. “Want to go take care of the horses inside for me while I finish this up?” he asked and Sherlock nodded. He got busy making sure they all had fresh water and check-marked their name on the white board as he gave each of them their food. 

Back at the Watson’s house, three-fourths of the family were sitting down to watch Family Feud. Mrs. Watson had sent multiple texts to John, all of which went unread, his phone being locked in the cab of his parked truck. She sighed as she sat down with her husband and daughter, “Where is John?”

Mr. Watson just shrugged, but Hannah piped up “He and Sherlock left about an hour ago.”

“Sherlock?” her mother repeated. “Why was he here?”

“I dunno. I think they went to the new farm.” She threw a piece of popcorn into her mouth “Pretty sure John still had chores to complete out there.”

She sighed, “This late… it’s foolish to be messing with large animals out in the dark. What is wrong with that boy?” There was a poignancy behind her words.

“He’s got so much going on, give him a break.”

Mrs. Watson rolled her eyes, “Leave it to you to defend him.”

“Well, someone should.”

Hannah tensed between them, holding her breath.

“Oh yes, I keep forgetting - I’m such a terrible mother.”

“No one - forget it. Forget it. I’m sure John and Sherlock are just fine.”

“Go check on them, please, Martin?”

“It’s nearly nine and you want me to drive out to the next county to make sure two nearly adult boys are okay?”

“Yes. You know how I worry.” She feigned a look of concern for the boys. It was really her curiosity of what they were doing that pushed her to ask. Martin sighed and rose from his chair grabbing the keys to his car. He had barely made it out of the driveway when he had the idea to call Sherlock. The posh accent answered with a confused “Hello?”

“Hey, Sherlock, it’s John’s dad.”

Sherlock, who was laying on John’s chest in the back of his pickup truck, sat up quickly - worry washing across his face and interrupting his and John’s first couple moments of relaxing. “Oh, hi Mr. Watson, how are you?” John sat up, panic crossing his face.

“I’m alright. Listen, the missus was sending me out to the farm to make sure you all were okay but if you tell me everything’s fine I’ll just leave you be.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re fine. We finished up with the work a few minutes ago and we’re just… talking. Do you want me to tell John he’s needed back?”

“No, no; that’s fine, stay out there as long as you’d like. Just wanted to make sure the coyotes hadn’t gotten you or anything.” He laughed. 

John took the phone, “Hey Pops, we’re fine. And you’ll be glad to know we haven’t heard any coyotes tonight. Sorry, if you tried to call me - my phone died.”

“No worries, son. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight. Goodnight, Sherlock.” He called out a little louder, obviously unaware he had been on speaker phone.

“Goodnight, Mr. Watson.”

The senior Watson ended the call, he almost let his mind wander to thoughts that had been reoccurring the past several weeks, but once again decided to brush them away. He turned the heat up a bit and decided to drive to the local dairy bar, picking up sundaes for his wife and daughter.

  
  


“That was unexpected.” Sherlock broke the silence.

“Yeah, scared me a bit too. What if he hadn’t called and just drove out here?” 

Sherlock didn’t need John to explain any further to the concern he was referring to. “We would have heard the tires on the gravel.”

“Yeah but me and you in the bed of my truck… God, if word ever got out we’d be the not so small talk of the town.”

“People do just hang out…  _ We _ used to just hang out. You’re just overthinking it, everything is going to be fine. We’re careful.”

John nodded and giggled, “Out of context, someone would think we were talking about safe sex.”

Sherlock shook his head and laid back down, letting John pull him close once more. “My parents would be so proud.”

John turned to look at him, “What?”

“Oh a few weeks ago, after that day my dad saw us…not watching a movie, he started talking about you not being allowed to come over when one of them wasn’t there because, ‘it opens up opportunities for accidents to happen.’

The American laughed and covered his face, “Oh God, what did you say?”

“I told him that was stupid and that I couldn’t get pregnant.” They were both laughing now. 

John lazily ran his fingers through Sherlock’s curls, as they stared up at the cold night sky and enjoyed the easy conversation. It was getting late, but neither one of them were ready for this moment to be over. Sherlock sent a quick text to his parents that he didn’t know what time he would be home. Not an hour later he and John were fast asleep under the comforter from the barn and wrapped around each other.

Sherlock was woken up by the sound of his own teeth chattering and his muscles quivering in an attempt to keep themselves warm. He nudged the sleeping figure next to him, “John…John…can you take me home?”

John stirred slightly before his eyes shot open, “Fuck, what time is it?”

“Oh, um, well it’s still dark.” Sherlock said, searching for his phone beneath the blankets “It’s 6:40.”

“Shit, I’ve got to start getting ready for church at 7:30.”

“With language like that…”

“Hush. Let’s go, I gotta try to sneak back in before my parents wake up.” They climbed out the bed and threw the blankets in the back seat. As soon as John started the engine Sherlock was turning the heat as high as it would go. John dropped Sherlock off with a quick kiss goodbye before speeding down the road. 

He quietly crept up the stairs and laid down in his bed closing his eyes. Less than ten minutes later his recently awoken mother came in, telling him It was time to get up. He breathed a sigh of relief that she didn’t know he had already been up.

That morning he sat in the pew with the smell of Sherlock’s perfume lingering on his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy update day! I hope you all are doing well and have a fabulous rest of the week! As always, please dont hesitate to leave feedback- comments always make my day! Stay safe and healthy!  
> Lots of love,  
> Anna
> 
> Keep up with me on twitter: @OhHeyyItsAnna
> 
> THIS UPDATE WAS MADE MARCH 4,2021- This story now has a playlist of songs that will coordinate with the titled chapters. This is NOT the kind of playlist you should listen to WHILE YOU READ! In my opinion, the songs will be the most impactful after you have read the chapters. The playlist will help give you a deeper insight to the characters emotions and occasionally coincides with details of the chapters.
> 
> Playlist for chapters 8 (Endings Bring New Beginnings), 9 (Tailgate), and 10 (Recruiters and Revelations): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFEH0rOBhY4&list=PLG0SYRVliS1i2MKQdzkxDgJDEN3ifYAbp
> 
> This playlist helps add to the feelings of excitement and aspect of relief that Sherlock and John are experiencing now that their feelings have been made known to one another. One of the chapters is also named after one of the songs for obvious reasons haha!


	11. Recruiters and Revalations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday, I hope you all are having a good week so far! As always, I hope you all like this chapter- but if i'm being honest- i am so excited for you all read next weeks chapter, its a favorite of mine!! If you follow me on twitter you might have seen a poll I did asking if i should split these chapters into two parts and update twice a week (mainly for AO3 algorithm) or continue one update per week. I haven't completely decided yet so if you have an opinion on it, please let me know! 
> 
> Fun Fact: This story was originally inspired by my love of the story telling aspect of country music, hence why this story is called Suddenly All the Songs Were About You. Would you all enjoy if i put together a playlist of the songs that helped inspire some of the chapters? 
> 
> More Info: In the upcoming chapters i might make references to TV shows/songs and link pictures or certain things. To avoid plagiarism and appease my moral compass (lol) there will be a section of works cited for these sources!
> 
> TL;DR- Have a good week! do you want a playlist that would go with the story? do you want one big update or two smaller ones? Plagiarism is bad!
> 
> Please don't hesitate to leave comments, feedback, or questions!  
> Stay safe and healthy,  
> Lots of love,  
> Anna
> 
> Keep up with me on twitter: OhHeyyItsAnna

The week before Thanksgiving break was upon them. The whole school seemed tense about midterm exams. Some crammed the night before, fueled by coffee and energy drinks; others, like Sherlock, only having to revise a little each day. John was stuck somewhere in between. This week’s home game was the one being attended by the college recruiter. With his mind on football he found himself cutting corners on studying on nearly every subject except chemistry- and if it wasn’t for Sherlock keeping him on track, he would have fallen behind there too. The couple had officially declared each other as boyfriends a week ago, while sat on the bank of the same creek where they had talked the first time John took Sherlock out on Major. Things were pretty perfect. John was happier than ever, despite being busier than ever. He was doing well in all of his classes and his overall brightened demeanor secured his place as team captain, leaving a very disgruntled Jim. Molly constantly begged Sherlock for the details of his love life; which he had, naturally, been reluctant to share at first- but his trust wasn’t misplaced with Molly. He never realized the joy having a real friend could bring into his life. Word began circulating not too long ago that Mary and John had officially called it quits, and they both began receiving interest from their peers. Mary was selective with who she agreed to go on a date with, not quite ready to throw herself back into a relationship. She kept her promise to John, never letting a word slip about the things he confided in her. They had spoken a few times, but never overstaying the others welcome; as friendly as they were, wounds were still tender.

With three of their exams behind them by Thursday afternoon, John and Sherlock were driving to the Holmes’s house to study for the next day’s chemistry exam and to quiz each other for their respective classes. 

Once out of the school lot, John was quick to reach across the console and take Sherlock’s hand in his own as they turned down the backroads. “What are your plans for the break?” John asked.

Sherlock sighed and shrugged his shoulders, “Get ahead on schoolwork, maybe read a bit, hopefully see you.” John caught his shy grin at the end of the sentence.

“What about Thanksgiving Day?”

“Oh, we aren’t doing anything. We don’t celebrate in England you know?”

John rolled his eyes, “Yes, I’m aware. I just thought since you were over here for the holiday you might.”

“It would just be the three of us, no need to make a big fuss over it.”

Something about the Holmes’s not celebrating the occasion and not having additional family to spend it with didn’t sit right with John, “If my parents agree, would you all like to join my family’s thanksgiving? We always have plenty left over and there are so many people coming already, three more won’t stand out. Besides, I’m sure my extended family would love to meet you all.”

Sherlock smiled towards the floor, “Really? You're inviting me to your family dinner?”

John squeezed his hand a bit tighter, “I guess I am.” Sherlock leaned over and kissed his cheek and feelings of warmth raised high in their chests.

It was finally Friday, the last day of exams, the last day of class before the Thanksgiving holiday, and the night of the most important game of John’s high school career. John and Greg were the only two in the gym that morning, exchanging easy conversation. Greg was spotting John as he pressed the weight above his chest, “So how many people are attending the famous Watson Thanksgiving this year?” he asked, and John gave a strained smile.

“Last time I asked my mom I think we were up to thirty-three.” He saw Greg shake his head above him.

“Your poor, mother- fixing all that food.”

“I think she enjoys it, plus my aunts usually come around a day or two early to help out. And my sister and I are there.”

“Still, it seems weird to have that many people over for thanksgiving dinner. Even with my extended family there are only about 15 of us. Almost like a party rather than a family holiday.”

“It feels that way at times.” John set the bar back down on its holder and let out a tired exhale. “But a big family that all live within a hundred-mile radius of each other- not much of an excuse for us not to get together once or twice a year.”

“All family members this year or are friends coming?”

“Mostly all family, save for the elderly couple across the street and Sherlock’s family.”

“Sherlock’s family?” Greg quirked an eyebrow.

John finished his drink of water, “Yeah, they don’t celebrate across the pond so my family thought it might be nice for them to experience an American Thanksgiving.”

Greg nodded, “Mmm, I forget you all are almost neighbors.”

John didn’t comment aloud, just thought  _ yeah…neighbors _ to himself. He nearly dropped a dumbbell on his foot when Greg asked, “Have you thought about who you are taking to the homecoming dance?”

“Uh, not really. Figured I’d go stag, ya know?”

“John Watson going stag to a dance when every girl in the school is practically throwing themselves at him? That would be inhumane.”

John laughed and shook his head, “What about you? Who are you going with?”

“Claire, actually, I asked her a few days ago and by some stroke of luck she said yes.” He laughed. John smiled and congratulated him, knowing how much his friend cared about this girl. “So, back to you. You can’t go alone. It’s your senior year, the whole team has dates and we wanted to get pictures before the dance.”

John sighed, “Alright, I’ll find someone…after the break. I don’t want to think about girls during the break.” He quirked a smile to himself at the double meaning of the phrase.

“I get it man, breaking up with Mary had to be hard.”

They finished up their workouts and shower before John was rushing to get to chemistry class…well more to get to Sherlock. The dark head of curls was staring down at his textbook, no one else in the room yet- John took a deep breath of courage and leaned over, placing a very quick kiss to Sherlock’s cheek. The younger boy turned pink but smiled ridiculously hard. John was no genius, but he had quickly picked up on how much Sherlock loved when he showed him affection outside of their secret spots of retreat. He tried to do it as often as he could, but more often than not his nerves got the better of him. “Ready for this exam?”

Sherlock nodded, “How are you feeling?”

“Good, I think. I have an excellent tutor if you recall.”

“I also seem to recall we didn’t do much chemistry at our last session.” Sherlock teased tilting his head, keeping a close eye on the door.

“Mmm” John pretended to think “Maybe not the text book kind, but I seem to remember  _ our _ chemistry improving quite a bit.”

Sherlock blushed once more, remembering the feel of John’s hand creeping underneath his sweatshirt, coming to rest softly on his bare torso, as they cuddled on the couch. It was all, truly, very innocent but it felt like fire on Sherlock’s skin. Just as Sherlock was going to make a snarky remark Mrs. Whitton walked in, “Oh good, just the two boys I wanted to speak with.” The pair glanced at each other and then back at her, a few other students beginning to infiltrate the classroom. “I’m separating the two of you starting today.”

“Why?!” They both questioned in a rather aggressive tone.

“Well, John, your scores have seemed to be going up a suspicious amount and I will not allow cheating in my class. Now I’m not accusing you, but to take precaution-”

“Yes, you are! I’ve worked hard for my grades in this class.”

She rolled her eyes, “John, you barely passed last year’s class and failed the first exam of this year. You honestly expect me to believe you're suddenly capable of understanding even more complex content?” Her boisterous tone had caught the attention of several students. She loved doing this.

“Sherlock has been tutoring me multiple days a week.” He said through gritted teeth.

“I have. Mrs. Whitton, I assure you John’s performance on the assignments are all his own work.”

“I’m separating you all during quizzes and exams from this point forward, but you may remain lab partners at this table.” She spat, obviously annoyed to not get her way. Sherlock whispered a thank you but John just glared daggers into her back.

“Bitch.” He hissed under his breath and Sherlock was quick to slap his arm.

“You’re going to do great, don’t let her get to you…only I’m allowed to do that.” He was testing the waters, knowing John was irritated. He sighed in relief when John cracked a smile and playfully shoved his shoulder. They soon separated from each other and began the exam.

They met up in the hallway as Sherlock walked towards his English room, “Hey, are you coming to the game tonight?” John asked.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about that but… um I should probably text you about it…”

“You can’t come?” John’s voice was practically dripping with disappointment.

“No, I can!” Sherlock was quick to interject “I’ll text you, okay?”

John nodded and let him enter the classroom, making his way to his own. His phone buzzed almost immediately.

“I can come, I just didn’t know if you wanted me to. -SH”

“Why wouldn’t I want you there?”

“It’s a big night for you…I don’t want you worried about anything to do with me or us. I don’t want to cause any kind of distraction. -SH”

John smiled at the screen,  _ you’re always a distraction _ he thought.  “I want you there.”

“Then I’ll be there-SH” Sherlock smiled, and Molly sat down cheerfully next to him.

“Whatcha smiling about? Oh, wait let me guess! It’s the thing we can’t talk about!” She whispered with a giggle.

Sherlock nodded, curls bouncing, “Come with me to the game tonight? Please?”

“Sherlock… you know I love you, but those games are so cold and I don’t care about football...” she hesitated “But you’re in luck, Tom invited me to go with him, so I’ll be there and we will sit with you.”

“Oh great, now I’m the third wheel.”

“No, you’re not! Your matching wheel is just not attached to the frame.” She laughed at her own analogy.

Sherlock and Molly had learned weeks ago to bring a blanket to the games, if it wasn’t freezing by the time the game started, it certainly was by half time. Sherlock huddled in the blanket, watching as Molly and Tom were cuddled close in their own. It wasn’t nearly as warm without Molly radiating body heat onto him. They were completely engrossed in conversation, ignoring him completely. Which would have been fine if the game had already started and he could just focus on John, but it was still twenty or so minutes before they would begin. Sherlock looked at the sides of the field at the cheerleaders in their short skirts, taking pity on how cold they must be. He heard a familiar voice and turned his attention to the direction of the bleacher steps. It was the Watsons. He wasn’t sure whether to say hello or pretend like he didn’t see them, but the decision was made for him when Mr. Watson began to wave, “Sherlock, how are you?”

“Good, thanks. How are you all?”

“Fine, fine. Why don’t you come sit with us?” His smile was genuine but his wife’s was feigned, appearing more like a grimace.

Sherlock gave a quick glance to Molly and Tom before picking up his things and following Mr. Watson to their seats. “John’s recruiter is here tonight right?”

“Yeah, poor kid, I think he’s nearly shitting bricks.” Mr. Watson laughed, encouraging Sherlock to as well. “Your parents here?”

“No, just me.”

“Well, I’m sure John wouldn’t mind taking you back home if you need a ride.” 

Mr. Watson obviously was unaware John was already giving him a ride after the game, he decided to play it off, “I would appreciate it. So where is the recruiter?”

Mr. Watson pointed towards the right of the field, “That guy down there in the blue and white. John’s top pick for college, too. Not just for football but undergrad and med school too.”

Mrs. Watson rolled her eyes much to Sherlock’s annoyance. He knew she still thought John should take over the farming business and disapproved of his thoughts to join the army or go to med school. Who on earth didn’t want their kid to become a doctor? Sherlock always tried to suppress his feelings about that woman, he wanted to like her, he wanted her to like him…but they butted heads more than the sheep they raised.

“He’ll do great.” Sherlock said confidently.

“I hope so, son.”

Those words shouldn’t have felt as comforting as they did.

The game began and John was playing phenomenally. He had made two touchdowns, great passes and defensive moves. At least that’s what Sherlock heard from Mr. Watsons ongoing dialogue. Right before the clock ran down for halftime, the largest player had knocked John to the ground - hard. Sherlock was able to hear John’s pained grunt over the background noise. He had seen John tackled and pushed around plenty during the games he had attended so far, but when John didn’t immediately get back up he felt his stomach drop. The referee blew the whistle and called a foul, placing a penalty against the player who wrongly took John down. John was still laying on the field, holding a hand to his side. He watched Greg run over to his friend, extending a hand and helping him back to his feet. The time had run out on the clock and half time was officially declared. Sherlock excused himself to the restroom, leaving John’s family. He walked quickly past the side of the field and spotted John standing near the dugout of the baseball field only 20 feet or so from the football field. It was dark, even more so where John was. He gave one last look around before hastily making his way towards his boyfriend.

“John, are you okay?”

The blonde's head jerked up, “Sherlock… you-ouch- shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed to make sure you were okay.” He wanted to reach out and touch John but kept his distance. “Are you?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine- just got the wind knocked out of me is all.” John’s expression was pained and when he tried to straighten his body he whimpered in pain.

“You’re not fine.” Sherlock said, taking a step forward and squatting down to look up at John who was doubled over in pain. “What hurts?”

“Christ, my ribs. The left side.” 

Sherlock felt himself hurt, he bit his lip trying to hold back what he wanted to say, but it broke like a dam and the words flooded out, “You should sit out the rest of the game. John- it could be serious-”

John’s head jerked up, sending another wave of excruciating pain over him, “Stay out of this, Sherlock.” His tone had turned aggressive and the Brit was trying to work out if it was from pain or genuine anger at him. “Do you know how important this game could be for me?”

“Yes, of course but-”

“But nothing. It already looks bad that I got tackled like that.”

“It was illegal!” Sherlock argued

“It. Doesn’t. Matter. I need to finish the game.” He inhaled deep, twinging, “I’ll see you later.” John walked off and was soon flagged down by the coach.

“Watson!” he called before lowering his voice so that only John could hear, his facial expression softened slightly, “Listen…kid, I know how much this game means to you; but I’m taking you out for the second half.”

John felt his blood run cold and his face dropped, “Coach you can’t do that!”

“I can, and I am. Your safety isn’t worth it.”

“You fucking-” John’s voice started to raise, and the coach grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him into the locker room.

“Hey! Listen to me dammit! You’ve got a top recruiter out there for YOU. You’ve played a great first half, the best I’ve ever seen you play since I met you as a middle schooler. I’ll go talk with him, but I suggest you accept my decision with dignity because acting like the hot headed angry football player isn’t going to look good to that rep. Do you understand me?” The coach was practically seething in John’s face, their noses pressed together. John gave one nod and walked with his team back onto the field, and he took a seat on the sidelines.

John’s father was devastated, Sherlock could see it in his eyes. If he had known the coach was going to take him out of the game Sherlock would have saved himself the pain and embarrassment of even suggesting it to John. 

The game finished and their team won, but they wouldn’t have if John had not made those two touchdowns in the first half. Sherlock walked with John’s family to greet their injured son. His dad wrapped his arms around his shoulders, telling him things would work out. They were still talking when the college representative came up, introducing himself as Ben Walton. He shook John’s hand firmly, “ You played great out there. I was sorry to see you get hurt. Doing alright?”

“As good as I can be, I suppose.” John replied back in a very professional manner.

“I would like to offer you an invitation to come to our campus, let me give you a tour of the facilities and tell you our story. I’d love to hear yours as well.” The man said as they all watched a smile grow on John’s face.

“Absolutely, thank you, I’d love to.”

They shook hands one last time as the rep promised to be in touch. Sherlock wanted so badly to throw his arms around John and kiss him in congratulations but that obviously couldn’t happen in this very moment. His dad clapped him on the shoulder, accidentally causing him pain and promptly apologizing. His mother kissed his cheek and hugged him lightly. Sherlock never thought he would be jealous of Mrs. Watson. 

“Are you okay to drive, son? I told Sherlock you wouldn’t mind taking him home.” His dad said, gathering their blankets in his arms.

An amused expression washed over John’s face, “Oh, um yeah I’ll be fine. I’ll see you back home, what time do I need to be back?”

His dad grinned, “It’s your first official evening of a break, you’ve impressed a rep, and you’ve got some pity points for your injury… stay out as long as you like, just be safe.” It was music to the two boys’ ears.

As soon as they were in John's truck Sherlock leaned over the console, fervently locking lips with his boyfriend. John chuckled softly into the kiss but met back with just as much enthusiasm. He hesitated for a brief moment before he cupped Sherlock’s face and ever so softly ran his tongue along Sherlock’s bottom lip. He heard the younger boy take a quiet, sharp inhale. They had made out a fair amount in their few weeks of dating, but this was the first-time John dared to do this. Sherlock’s lips parted slightly, and John took the opportunity to slide his tongue in further, until it was met with Sherlock’s. Seeing as John had been his first kiss, he knew Sherlock had never done this. He moved slow- languidly letting them bask in the gentle moment. The flicker of car lights took them out of their love drunken trance, “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

It was all Sherlock could do to nod and make a small humming sound.

In keeping with tradition, John and Sherlock went to Steak N’ Shake, opting for the drive through rather than joining their peers at the inside dining area. John didn’t even think about being seen. But inside, Greg spotted John’s truck and that he wasn’t alone. He stared out the large windows at the dark blue vehicle and watched his best friend laughing with the young Brit. He felt the faintest trace of jealousy rising inside him, was he slowly being replaced? Had John found a better friend in the boy from across the pond than the kid he had known since kindergarten? More than jealousy, was the feeling of curiosity.It felt ridiculous to even entertain the thoughts he was having…but here he was dancing around them like a circus performer. His friend had been spending an awful lot of time with the new boy, talked about him when he wasn’t with him, sometimes turned him down because he already had made plans with Sherlock. Greg thought a little more, sipping his milkshake and now looking at the back window of the truck. He had even invited him and his family for thanksgiving dinner with his own. Was it beginning to go past southern hospitality? The memory of Jim’s locker room teasing the morning John wasn’t there came flooding back to him. Then, as if in a scene from a movie the two shadowed silhouettes in the truck, met one another in the middle, faces crashing together for a brief moment. Greg choked, clasping his hand to his mouth and spitting cold strawberry ice cream into it. He insisted he was fine to those who asked, but he was far from fine. He knew what he just saw, but couldn’t believe it. 

John and Sherlock drove back to Sherlock’s house, walking through the door hand in hand, no fear in either of their minds as they were greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Holmes cuddled on the couch and smiling at them. John shared with them about the recruiter and his injury- to which Mrs. Holmes insisted on giving him ibuprofen for. The parents retreated to bed leaving the young couple to their own devices. Sherlock felt awful when he draped his arm over John’s middle and the older boy tensed in pain, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure it’s just a pulled muscle. It will hurt like a bitch for the next few days and then start to get better.” John tried to joke through the pain.

“You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.”

Sherlock sighed dramatically, “I guess there’s no need for me to kiss it better then…”

“Oh, no, you should definitely do that.” John teased back and pulled Sherlock closer. They held one another, talking for hours, sharing soft, feather like kisses, passionate ones, and others shared just for the sake of being close. When Sherlock started to get drowsy John made sure to begin getting ready to leave. Their accidental sleepovers shouldn’t keep happening. Sherlock clung to him a little longer. “I needed to talk to you about something before I go, actually.”

Sherlock stilled, “It sounds serious.”

“Not really, only as serious as we make it.” John’s tone was relaxed, helping ease Sherlock’s nerves, “Greg mentioned the homecoming dance to me today and asked if I was going with someone…” Sherlock felt his heart flutter, he was sure it was flying. Was John about to ask him to the dance? “Obviously we can’t go together, but-” his heart dropped. “But I wanted to make sure it was okay with you, that I ask someone, or even let you help me pick who it is.”

It was, overall, a very considerate thing of John to ask, but it wasn’t what Sherlock wanted. “Oh, yeah. Whatever you want to do.” He faked a smile.

John didn’t buy it for a second, “You're upset.”

“No, it’s- alright yeah, I’m not thrilled.” The darker haired boy sighed “But it is what it is. Thanks for checking in with me but go with whoever you want.” Sherlock turned away from him, but John reached out and took his hand-drawing him back in close, “I want to go with you. I wish I could. Maybe one day, but not now.” John’s words were soft and laden with meaning as he caressed his thumb over Sherlock’s knuckles. “Sherlock… you knew it would be like this. I know it doesn’t make it easier, but we did-”

“I know. I know. It’s fine, really.” He put on a better smile than before and leaned down to kiss John, “You should head home.”

John brushed a curl from the side of Sherlock’s face, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek where it once laid, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

  
  


Wednesday morning John was woken by the sound of thick southern drawls and laughter, which could only mean his aunts had arrived. He pulled on one of his nicer pairs of jeans and walked downstairs. His aunt Katherine was quick to say his name in shrill excitement and throw her arms around him as his other aunt Lisa did the same. Both women gushing over how handsome and strong he was, making over how proud they were of him. Most of the family coming to Thanksgiving was from his dad’s side of the family, given that his mother was an only child. His father however had two sisters and a slew of cousins he had kept close with for all these years. They were fixing a breakfast for the family when his mother discovered the most horrifying thing you can as a southern cook…they were out of butter. His aunts were insisting they would head to Kroger and get some, along with a few other ingredients they had realized they had forgotten. John volunteered to help his mother while they were gone. His father sat at the dining table in the adjoining room sipping on his black coffee. 

“John, I’ve not seen Mary around in so long! Please tell me you invited her to dinner tomorrow.” His mother was carefully turning the bacon in the pan.

“Mary and I broke up actually.” 

It seemed as if the kitchen went radio silent. It was as if the stove fan stopped blowing, the bacon stopped sizzling, dishes stopped clanking, water stopped running- it was the definition of time standing still. When John looked to his father, he was still paused with his coffee cup to his lips. But it couldn’t last forever, when the world started turning again it felt like chaos. Now the bacon sizzled violently, the fan picked up speed, the dishes sounded like they were breaking.

“What on earth, John! Why?” His mother said with a cry in her voice.

“It was for the best mom. It just wasn’t working. We are still friends, good friends even; but to answer your question- no, I did not invite her to thanksgiving.”

“John you have no idea how devastated I am by this; disappointed too! You all would have had the most beautiful children and…”

John’s dad pulled an unamused face and spared a quick glance at his son, who was growing uncomfortable, “Carolyn, you’re putting an awful lot of stock in a high school relationship.”

“I loved that sweet girl. I loved her  _ for you _ , John.” His mother brought her apron to the corner of her eye.

“Mom, are you really crying about this?” John huffed “How many people marry their first girlfriend? Are you trying to make me feel worse than I already do?”

“You just couldn’t do any better than that young lady and you threw it away.” She excused herself from the room and his father came to her position at the stove to watch the meat and potatoes cook.

“I’m sorry to hear it, John. You alright?” he asked, placing a hand on John’s shoulder “Your mother… well, you know how dramatic she can be. She’ll get over it.”

John smiled, “I’m doing really good, actually.”

“Good. And Mary?”

“She’s fine too. It was mutual, it really was.” 

His aunts returned and the tension in the house began to dissipate as they all gathered around the table to eat and share stories of past gatherings. He wished it could always be this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday, I hope you all are having a good week so far! As always, I hope you all like this chapter- but if i'm being honest- i am so excited for you all read next weeks chapter, its a favorite of mine!! If you follow me on twitter you might have seen a poll I did asking if i should split these chapters into two parts and update twice a week (mainly for AO3 algorithm) or continue one update per week. I haven't completely decided yet so if you have an opinion on it, please let me know! 
> 
> Fun Fact: This story was originally inspired by my love of the story telling aspect of country music, hence why this story is called Suddenly All the Songs Were About You. Would you all enjoy if i put together a playlist of the songs that helped inspire some of the chapters? 
> 
> More Info: In the upcoming chapters i might make references to TV shows/songs and link pictures or certain things. To avoid plagiarism and appease my moral compass (lol) there will be a section of works cited for these sources!
> 
> TL;DR- Have a good week! do you want a playlist that would go with the story? do you want one big update or two smaller ones? Plagiarism is bad!
> 
> Please don't hesitate to leave comments, feedback, or questions!  
> Stay safe and healthy,  
> Lots of love,  
> Anna
> 
> Keep up with me on twitter: OhHeyyItsAnna
> 
> THIS UPDATE WAS MADE MARCH 4,2021- This story now has a playlist of songs that will coordinate with the titled chapters. This is NOT the kind of playlist you should listen to WHILE YOU READ! In my opinion, the songs will be the most impactful after you have read the chapters. The playlist will help give you a deeper insight to the characters emotions and occasionally coincides with details of the chapters.
> 
> Playlist for chapters 8 (Endings Bring New Beginnings), 9 (Tailgate), and 10 (Recruiters and Revelations): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFEH0rOBhY4&list=PLG0SYRVliS1i2MKQdzkxDgJDEN3ifYAbp
> 
> This playlist helps add to the feelings of excitement and aspect of relief that Sherlock and John are experiencing now that their feelings have been made known to one another. One of the chapters is also named after one of the songs for obvious reasons haha!


	12. Thanksgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! Thank you all so so much for 2000 hits and over 100 kudos, it means so so much to me! This chapter is shorter because i am going to try to twice a week update for this week, so this is technically half of a chapter and the other half will be posted as usual on Wednesday- feel free to let me know how you feel about this format! These two boys make feel so happy and squishy in this chapter lol. As always, please dont hesitate to comment!   
> Stay safe and healthy.  
> Lots of love,  
> Anna
> 
> Keep up with me on twitter! @OhHeyyItsAnna

The next day cousins, second cousins, uncles, grandparents and friends began flooding the Watson house around noon. Many of the younger children were playing in the yard, while the teens sat on the patio talking amongst themselves, occasionally joining in with the adults.

John’s mother and two aunts were finishing putting the last of the food in the oven when he spotted Sherlock’s family pull into the driveway. Charles was carrying a beautiful bouquet of autumn flowers and Mrs. Holmes carrying several bottles of what looked to be expensive wine. Neither the wine nor bouquet was as eye catching as Sherlock though. Hair perfectly styled, wearing a deep purple shirt that looked like a second skin, and well fitted black dress pants- John was sure he had forgotten how to breathe. He walked with purpose down the porch stairs and greeted them like he hadn’t seen them last night. He kissed Violet’s cheek and took the bottles of wine from her as he welcomed them in.

Much to his surprise, his mother was the next to approach them, hugging them all. John stifled a laugh when he saw Sherlock’s eyes dart left and right as his mother embraced him. As the main meal was nearing, most people had begun to gather inside the conjoined living and dining room. “Everyone, everyone!” his mother spoke above the now dying chatter as all eyes fell on the Holmes family “I’d like to introduce you all to our newest neighbors, they are here all the way from England!” His mother said excitedly. John could practically see Sherlock twitching from trying not to roll his eyes. “This is Charles and Violet Holmes and their son, Sherlock.” There was an array of hellos from around the room as the adult Holmes’s took a seat in an open spot. John’s family was eager to ask them questions about how they liked the States, what they were here for, for how long - all the questions he was sure they got asked every time they met someone new.

John’s cousin, Anna, chose to sit across from Sherlock and John at what was infamously deemed ‘the kids table’ even though most of the kids were now teens or adults. She was blushing as she made small talk with Sherlock, who was surprisingly tolerating it very well. It made John glow seeing his family mesh with Sherlock’s so well, but he was quickly brought back to reality- knowing he shouldn’t get too high on the feeling, it would only leave him further to fall. Anna giggled at Sherlock’s quirky remarks and it didn’t take John much longer to catch on that she was crushing on his boyfriend. Anna was the same age as Sherlock, making conversation flow even easier for the pair. They finished their meal, and all sat around the living room enjoying stories and easy laughter.

The conversation had turned to the kids’ school and surrounding activities when Anna’s mother chimed in, “Oh and Anna is learning to play the violin this semester!”

Sherlock’s mother lit up. Like all parents she wanted to brag on her kid, but it was hard to work in ‘my son is a 16-year-old genius’ without sounding ridiculous. “Sherlock plays the violin as well!”

“Really? That’s wonderful! For how long?”

“Since he was almost 4, so I guess that would be about 13 years. Gosh, that makes me feel so old, darling.” She said turning to her husband who just smiled.

“I would love to hear him play! I’m sure it would help Anna to watch him. If only we lived closer, he could give her lessons.”

John rolled his eyes, wondering what was up with the Watsons needing Sherlock to help them with things. This really must have been the south for him to start feeling pains of jealousy about his cousin.

“If only we had thought to bring his instrument, I’m sure he would love to play for you all,” His mother said with far too much conviction for his liking.

“He really wouldn’t,” Sherlock mumbled only loud enough for John to hear and smirk at.

A young female voice spoke up - Anna’s younger sister. “Anna brought hers!”

“That’s right! Anna, go get it.” her mother stated, and her daughter began moving from her position on the carpeted floor. She soon returned with a standard student violin, nowhere near as nice of an instrument as Sherlock’s, but very suitable for a beginner. She extended the violin in his direction and held the bow with the other hand.

“I haven’t prac-” Sherlock started before his mother interrupted him.

“Play.” She said with a tone and glare that meant this topic was not up for debate.

He glanced at John who was sitting smugly next to him. John had been begging him to play for him for weeks, but Sherlock always refused. “Is it tuned?” Sherlock directed the question towards Anna, who shrugged and mumbled something about her music teacher tuning it months ago.

Sherlock took a deep breath and brought the bow to the E string, adjusting the peg and fine tuner until it was proper; repeating the process with the other strings. “Any song in particular?” he asked in an almost shy manner. 

“What all do you know?” John’s father asked.

“If I know the tune of the song, I can play it,” he said and watched as a few faces lifted in admirable shock.

“Turning Page? Sleeping At Last.” Anna suggested and Sherlock internally debated whether or not he wanted to admit to knowing that song. Although truth be told it was one of his favorites.

“Alright.” He brought the violin to his shoulder and gently placed his chin on the rest. He played the first note and then closed his eyes. The room was silent except for the beautiful sound that waved from the instrument. Sherlock reopened his eyes when he began the last stanza of the song. As soon as he looked up his sapphire eyes met John’s and didn’t leave them until the last note died out. The room was silent for what felt like far too many minutes before everyone began applauding, several members of John’s family complimenting him on how beautiful that was. He was still looking at John.

Anna’s voice was what finally pulled his gaze away, “It never sounds like that when I try to play it.” She said half serious.

Sherlock laughed softly, “Just keep practicing.” He handed her instrument back to her, turning down the request to play another song. John readjusted in his seat a few times before standing up, excusing himself to the restroom; only to return a few minutes later and stand in front of Sherlock, “Can you come with me a minute, I needed to ask you a question about something.”

Sherlock uncrossed his legs and stood gracefully, following John up the stairs to his room. “What did you need to-”

John closed his bedroom door and shoved Sherlock’s back against it, crashing their lips together and tangling his finger in the ebony curls. Sherlock put his hands on John’s biceps and kissed him back just as eagerly as he smiled into the kiss. John slipped his tongue into the other boy’s mouth and Sherlock let a soft moan slip and John laughed comfortably, “That was beautiful.” John whispered, still so close his lips brushed Sherlock’s as he spoke. “You’re beautiful.” He caressed the side of the taller boy’s face.

“John…” Sherlock said breathily.

“Do you understand what you do to me?” John asked redundantly and watched in amusement as a blush crept up Sherlock’s cheeks.

“I think I’m beginning to.” He teased and leaned forward to kiss him once more. In a precious motion of innocence Sherlock intertwined their fingers and let John hold his small frame against his strong one. 

John was the first to pull away with a sigh, “We should go back down.”

They hadn’t been gone very long, but it was enough time for some of the younger children to decide they wanted to go back outside to play. The adults followed to sit on the veranda to watch them. Several of the younger boys decided to play football, or some variation of it - they were really just running around with the ball and tackling one another. John and Sherlock stepped outside to watch, taking a seat on the concrete steps. John made eye contact with Sherlock’s father and flushed beet red when he saw Mr. Holmes look at his son’s swollen lips, then back at John’s and raised his eyebrows. John quickly looked away from him, curse the Holmes’s and their powers of deduction. 

John’s second youngest cousin, a five-year-old named Ben came running up to John begging him to come play football with them. John agreed, reluctantly leaving Sherlock to sit on the steps by himself, but his seat was quickly taken by Anna. Sherlock didn’t mind holding a conversation with her as he watched John. Smiling particularly fondly when Ben stole the ball from John who -instead of taking it back- picked the child up and carried him across the line to his team’s side, the child laughing wildly in his arms. The sun was setting slowly over the rolling hills of the countryside, it was a sense of tranquility that Sherlock wanted to live in forever.

John came back, out of breath from playing with the kids. He stepped over Anna and took a seat on the next step above her and Sherlock. The younger boy could feel the heat radiating from John’s legs and in a leap of faith he leaned slightly back, letting his back rest against John’s knees. The blonde tensed, but the action was hardly noticeable, especially under the cover of darkness so he let it slide, secretly enjoying it.

It came time for Sherlock and his family to leave, the Watsons all exchanging their goodbyes with them. Anna was the last to say goodbye to Sherlock. She handed him a small piece of folded paper, “Thank you for playing for us. It was nice to meet you, hopefully I’ll see you again before you go back to the UK,” She said hugging him.

Initially he froze up, but kissed her cheek in parting, thanking her for letting him play her violin. John watched with semi-gritted teeth, from a few feet away. He walked the Holmes family out to their car and waved goodbye to them.

John was brushing his teeth, wearing only his boxers when a FaceTime call from Sherlock came in. He answered and murmured a hello through his toothpaste filled mouth.

“John Watson, do you know Anna gave me her phone number?” Sherlock said, surprised, holding the unfolded paper to the camera. John chuckled, sputtering foamy toothpaste on the mirror before spitting into the bowl of the sink.

“I didn’t know for sure, but I figured with the way she was ogling you all day.”

“She was not!”

“She was. Obviously.” He raised his eyebrows, referring to the phone number. “Must be a Watson trait - admiring the Holmes’s.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner, “So you knew?”

John laughed a bit louder, “We  _ all _ knew, Sherlock. So, are you going to leave me for her?” 

“Still gay, John, really really gay.” He huffed, “Should I text her and tell her I’m gay?”

John’s tone shifted with his demeanor, “That’s up to you, Sherlock.” John laid down on his bed and held the phone above him.

“It’s up to you too, she’s your family.”

“Prefer if you didn’t, honestly,” John said, looking ashamed to even say it.

“Alright, well if she asks - tell her I accidentally lost her number.” Sherlock was wearing a thin long-sleeved white shirt that hung abnormally loose on him.

“Is that my shirt?” John said, bringing the phone closer to his face.

“Oh, um, yeah,” Sherlock said looking down at the item in question.

“I don’t remember giving you any of my clothes.”

“You didn’t, technically. It fell out of your gym bag while you were here one day, and I keep forgetting to return it.”

“You forget to return it and conveniently wear it to sleep in?” John chuckled. “Keep it, baby.” John watched Sherlock bite his bottom lip in an attempt to conceal his smile.

“I like when you do that.” He mumbled; face pressed to his pillow.

“What?” John asked, wanting to hear him say it.

“Call me things like that.”

Like the Grinch, John was sure his heart just tripled in size. “Good to know. I’m pretty tired, I should get some sleep and so should you; I’m sure my family wore you out.”

Sherlock shook his head, though his eyes were already starting to close, “They were lovely. Thank you for inviting us, it was much better than being alone. Goodnight, John.”

“Night, baby.”

When John ended the call, Sherlock let a high-pitched scream out into his pillow, giving himself secondhand embarrassment from his own behavior. John asked Sherlock earlier if he understood what he did to him…but did John understand what he did to Sherlock? Always stoic, calm and collected but John so often made him feel scatterbrained, in the best way possible. He pulled the sleeves of John’s shirt down over his hands and brought them to his lips, inhaling the faintly lingering smell of John’s cologne as he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! Thank you all so so much for 2000 hits and over 100 kudos, it means so so much to me! This chapter is shorter because i am going to try to twice a week update for this week, so this is technically half of a chapter and the other half will be posted as usual on Wednesday- feel free to let me know how you feel about this format! These two boys make feel so happy and squishy in this chapter lol. As always, please dont hesitate to comment!   
> Stay safe and healthy.  
> Lots of love,  
> Anna
> 
> Keep up with me on twitter! @OhHeyyItsAnna
> 
> PLAYLIST FOR THIS CHAPTER (will be added to as coordinating chapters are updated): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLG0SYRVliS1hSFCiypllx7GrHKR46JWN2


	13. I Know What I Saw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my sweet readers! I hope you all are having a good week so far! I'll leave my ramblings to the authors notes at the end haha I really hope you all enjoy this chapter!

The next day, when John’s extended family had barely been gone an hour, John heard his mother talking excitedly to someone upstairs. He had just started his workout, going a little easier since his injury at the game a few nights ago. He put his headphones back in, not able to be bothered to stop. He had only been running a few minutes when Greg emerged from the steps. John stopped his music, “Hey man, how was your holiday? Did I forget we were meeting up or something?”

Greg shook his head. “No, I was in the area and thought I’d drop by. Hadn’t seen your family in a little bit. Thanksgiving was good; ate too much as usual.” He laughed. “I see you’re burning off yesterday’s calories already, or did you have a turkey flavored protein shake for Thanksgiving dinner?”

John barked out a laugh. “Nah, I ate enough turkey and potatoes for half the county. Just keeping in routine.”

Greg nodded, but the atmosphere soon shifted. He looked at the ground and stared at his feet as he shifted on them awkwardly. John slowed the machine from a jog to a slow walk and got an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“Everything alright, dude?” he finally asked, unable to only listen to the sound of the treadmill any longer.

“Yeah, it is. It’s just um…” He shifted again. “Come here for a minute, we need to talk.”

Now John was starting to feel physically nauseous. He and Greg had been through a lot together, having known each other since the age of five. They had seen each other at their best and worst. Overcome the deaths of family members together, heart breaks and new relationships, but John couldn’t recall a time where he felt like this around his best friend. He stopped the machine entirely and pulled out his headphones, setting them on the table. He came to stand in front of his friend, “What’s up?”

Greg opened his mouth to start but changed what he was going to say last minute, “Can we go to our spot? I don’t know if you want to do this here…” 

“You’re freaking me out, dude. What’s going on?”

“John, please.”

“Yeah alright, let’s go.”

Their spot was the treehouse their fathers had built on John’s farm when their parents realized they would be lifelong friends. It was pretty simple but as kids they were pirates and superheroes, famous football players and rich businessmen. It housed imagination and so many fond memories. As they got older, the Legos and costumes were sold in yard sales and they turned it into a hangout spot. In it was a cooler they would refill with sodas, bean bag chairs, a few books, a dirty magazine Greg had stolen from his dad at 14, and a few other oddities. It became a place to vent about school and teachers, talk about girls and life struggles. A safe place to cry to one another without judgement, the rule since day one being: ‘what happens in the treehouse stays in the treehouse.’

But just like people, time moves on. Rope ladders become frayed, boards begin to rot, and birds make homes in the house that had now sat empty for nearly three years. It was painful to think that one day he and Greg spent their last consistent day in this sacred spot and didn’t even know it. The same way it felt to know that one day your parents picked you up and set you back down for the last time, neither of you aware that it would be the last.

John carefully climbed the weakening ladder and Greg followed him. He knocked down a few spider webs as he opened the door and shook the dust off his red bean bag before taking a seat and waited for Greg to do the same. His friend took a deep breath.

“So the other night, after the game, we all went to Steak ‘N Shake - you know the normal group of us.” He said, intently looking at John. “Obviously, um, as you know, you didn’t come with us this time. But I was sitting in the booth that faces the big window -that you can see the drive through from, you know the one?”

John nodded, not yet following how a conversation about cheap burgers warranted going to the treehouse.

“Right. So, I saw you pull in the drive through. And, before you say anything, I know for sure it was you.” He clasped his fingers together nervously “Anyway, um, I was looking out the window through the back of your truck and, um…”

Greg was getting even more nervous, tripping over his words, but John was still confused as to where this was going and he began to get frustrated “Greg, spit it out.” 

“Well, I, I saw you lean over and kiss someone, and John, I know who it was.” Greg hurried his words together and watched John’s pupils blow wide against his blue eyes. John felt his blood run cold and his hands begin to shake.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Greg,” He snarled.

“No, John. I know exactly what I saw. I-”

“What? Me on a date? So, I went on a date without telling you and I kissed them. That’s what the big fuss is about?” John was rising out of his chair.

“It’s not about the date, it’s about who it was with!” Greg stood to match his friend. “John, I saw YOU KISS SHERLOCK!”

John grabbed Greg’s shirt, twisting it in his hand, “You didn’t see shit, you understand me!” John seethed, backing his friend into the back wall. Greg was quick to move out of his grip and kicked John’s leg out from under him, sending them both to the ground with Greg on top.

“Listen to me, you son of a bitch. I have fought with myself for days over this, it’s practically all I’ve thought about, it has kept me up for hours at night. So now you’re gonna give me a few minutes to talk, and you better listen to what I have to say, damnit.” John couldn’t remember a time he had heard Greg’s voice so serious and aggressive. He stopped struggling, but Greg didn’t let him up. “I don’t care if you’re gay.” Greg’s tone shifted, once again it was soft and sincere. It was the voice of his best friend. John blinked as he internalized the words and began to feel his lip start to tremor. He bit it to physically make it stop. Greg continued. “I care that you never told me. I care that I had to find out like I did. I just want some answers, man…But on your own time.” 

The tears got harder for John to blink back.

“So here’s the last thing I’ve got to say and then you can storm off and never talk to me again, or punch me, or whatever it is you feel like you gotta do.” Greg inhaled. “Nobody else saw. It was only me facing the window and I’ve not said anything to anybody. Not even my parents. And I won’t say anything until you tell me I can. I promise.” Greg got off John and fell back into the bean bag.

John sat up, swallowing hard and trying to find his voice. He didn’t run away, and he certainly didn’t feel like punching his friend. They sat in silence for several minutes before John spoke up. “Ask what you want. I don’t know what to say, other than to thank you for not telling everyone.”

Greg gave him a sad smile, “How long?” John looked confused so he clarified, “You and Sherlock…how long have you all been-”

“About a month.”

Greg nodded, “Who else knows? About you being…gay?”

John chuckled pathetically, “I don’t know what I am, man.”

“If it makes you feel better, none of us do. You don’t owe me a label, or anyone for that matter - but um yeah, who else?”

“Sherlock, obviously. His parents and Molly Hooper. That’s all, and now you.”

“Molly Hooper?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” Greg smiled and John matched it, shaking his head.

“It’s a story for a different time.”

“And Mary?”

“Oh…yeah, Mary knows. She worked it out herself, I didn’t exactly tell her.”

“So is that the reason you and her called it quits?”

“No, truthfully it wasn’t; but it did push the breakup to happen sooner.”

Another nod from Greg as he took in the information, “And does she know about Sherlock?”

“Yeah. She’s been great.” John sighed, the adrenaline starting to fade and the guilt washing over him. “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from me like you deserved to. It’s been a really hard couple of months since meeting Sherlock and, um, coming to terms with things. Only to you would I admit this, but I was scared to tell you. Maybe I shouldn’t have been, but I was. It’s not a topic we  _ ever _ talk about and I had nothing to go off of to guess what kind of reaction you might have.”

“John, you’re my best friend. I don’t know anything that could change that.”

“You too.” John smiled, finally able to look his friend in the eye. “So nothing has to change? You’re not going to feel uncomfortable around me or act weird?”

“Nothing will change. Dude, so you like guys - big deal, you’re not a predator or serial killer; I don’t see why I’d be uncomfortable around you. In fact - I’m going to be offended if you don’t smack my ass before games the way you have for the past seven years.” They both broke into laughter and John felt a weight lifted off his chest. 

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier, and for throwing you against the wall…”

“Don’t sweat it. I didn’t react much better. Let’s get out of here, too many spiders for my liking.” Greg said standing up and extending a hand to help John to his feet. “Does this mean I can’t talk about girls to you anymore?”

John laughed, “I still like girls, Greg.”

“Thank God, because I have to tell you about what Claire and I did last night…”

Greg continued to ramble about the raunchy details of his evening as they walked back to John’s house. 

In that moment, it really did feel like nothing had to change between them.

John welcomed Greg in to stay a while. They played video games and talked, enjoying spending time with each other the way it used to be before life got so busy and complicated. 

As the days of December crept forward so did the wet cold to accompany it. John and Sherlock spent many days cuddled close in the living room of the Holmes’s house. Sherlock told John of how the winters in London didn’t seem to have the same bone chilling frigidness that those here did. He listened to John tell stories about the most recent ice storm that took place when he was in the fourth grade and how it cancelled school for over a month. Despite his dislike for the cold, Sherlock still eagerly accompanied John to the farm each day. By this point they had a routine set for who did what chores. Sherlock always took care of the horses, making sure to give Major a peppermint and a little extra attention. He fed the barn cats and wrote out instructions for the other farm hands before following John around. 

There were a few places that felt like a safe haven for the two; Sherlock’s home being the place where John could act without caution or fear. The first time Sherlock kissed him in front of his parents, John flushed red and apologized - only to be laughed at and reassured that it was fine. The second farm had become a place of security for them, especially when they would take John’s truck and park far off in the field where no one could see. However, they came to realize they could no longer suffer through the cold air, even with their bodies pressed against one another. The barn had a small lounge area where its residents often took breaks when they needed it, some even spending the night on the small couch if their horse was in need of supervision. The pair had made an attempt to make it a normal hang out spot, but after nearly being seen by one of the trainers, John thought it best not to make a habit of it.

The more time the boys spent with one another, the closer they became and the more in love they fell, though those three little words had yet to slip. Sherlock was quickly becoming frustrated by John’s insecurity and reluctance to show him extended moments of affection. While his home was comfortable for their relationship, it seemed like lately one of his parents was always there, meaning nothing beyond cuddling on the couch and the occasional chaste kiss was occurring. But one night, his mother and father exited their bedroom dressed in formal business attire.

“Boys, we’re headed to that seminar I was telling you about earlier,” his mother began as both boys looked at each other, obviously not remembering that conversation. “You’ll be okay here, right?” 

Sherlock immediately felt his blood start rushing through his body, now very eager for his parents to leave so he could have John. Relaxed, uninhibited John, to himself for a few hours. “Yeah Mum, we’ll be fine.”

“Should I head home, Mrs. Holmes?” John asked, already raising from the couch.

“No!” Sherlock interjected nearly before the blonde had finished his sentence. Everyone’s attention was now on him, all staring with looks that said  _ What the hell? _

“That won’t be necessary, John. You’re more than welcome to stay, as always.” She slipped on her black heels. “Besides, I’m worried Sherlock may never forgive me if I sent you home now.” She teased, much to the chagrin of her now blushing son. “We’ll be back around 11:30 tonight. Call your father if you need something, my phone won’t be on me.”

Sherlock watched them leave the driveway before practically throwing himself onto John’s lap, straddling his hips and wrapping his arms around his neck. It had been far too long since they had privacy like this. John chuckled and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s little waist, “Alright, alright, I get the message.” John laughed pulling Sherlock even closer to him and into a deep kiss, “I’ve missed you too.” He shifted on the couch cushion and laid back, pulling Sherlock down on top of him. They made out for what felt like both hours and seconds until they were both gasping for air. With no fear of judgement, John kept Sherlock resting half on top of him. The dark head of curls coming to rest on his chest and one of his skinny jean clad legs slotted between John’s. They watched the crime show that played on the TV and shared the occasional lazy kiss.

Sherlock was sure this was what being high felt like. He felt sated, like suddenly there was nothing wrong in the world and he couldn’t even remember what it was like to be a little discontent with the relationship. His hand was resting just above John’s belly button, he stared at the few inches of bare skin between the hem of John’s white shirt and his grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Sherlock could see the slightly pronounced V line and let his eyes follow it. He saw the not so subtle sign of the semi that John was now sporting since their heavy make out session moments ago. His gaze stayed fixed on the large raise in the sweatpants, he loved when John wore those sweatpants. 

Beyond Sherlock placing his hand underneath John’s shirt, or John running his hands up and down Sherlock’s thighs, the pair hadn’t gone very far in rounding the bases of physical touching. John was worried to go too fast for Sherlock, but also was overcoming his own internal struggle of letting himself touch another man in such an intimate manner. 

For years he willed himself not to even think about touching another male, having to unlearn that insecurity and self-hatred had proven harder than anticipated. Sherlock, on the other hand, was just as nervous and unsure. Having never had a relationship - having never even really been interested in having one until he met John - he had no idea how things were supposed to happen. All he knew was how he felt right now; he wanted to touch John and to be touched by him. He took a shallow breath and slowly moved his hand lower down John’s torso.

When John felt how intentional the movement was, he watched silently as Sherlock’s pale fingers ran over his still slightly tanned skin. He saw the delicate musician fingers come to a stop, hesitating at the gathered elastic band of the bottoms. He didn’t dare say anything for a fear of suggesting something Sherlock didn’t want. The movements had stopped long enough for John to wonder if he had thought too much into it. Maybe Sherlock had just been repositioning his hand…But then fingertips slipped under the elastic. John inhaled sharply, caught off guard and mentally facepalmed himself when Sherlock quickly withdrew his fingers and softly apologized. 

“It’s okay, really. I just- you surprised me.” John reassured him and he gently rubbed up and down the boys back, when an idea came to him. He placed his hand over top of Sherlock’s, intertwining their fingers from the top and slowly began dragging it down his body. “Tell me when to stop,” He whispered into Sherlock’s hair. The boy nestled into his side held his breath and watched with a burning intensity as his and John’s hand crept lower to where his had been before. Their conjoined fingers slid under the sweatpants, still on top of his fitted boxer briefs. Sherlock tilted his head, finally looking at John who was already looking down at him. He stretched a bit further before lightly pressing his lips to John’s neck. John had brought their hands to a stop. 

“Lower,” Sherlock whispered into the older boy’s ear before returning to his neck. A sly smile tugged at the corners of John’s mouth as he followed Sherlock’s instructions, sliding their hands lower until they came to rest over top of the growing bulge. They both gasped at the touch. John let go of Sherlock’s hand, wanting to let him decide what played out from there. The younger boy’s hand was cupped around the raised fabric as he ran his palm over it. He could tell from John’s half state of arousal that he was significantly bigger than he was, mostly in thickness. Sherlock blushed when he realized the thought had made his mouth water. He swallowed hard and slipped his hand under the boxers. John’s breathing stilled in anticipation. He was nearly at full hardness and his erection was begging to be touched. He gripped Sherlock’s ass with the arm wrapped around him and the younger boy let out a cute squeaking noise that caused them to giggle, breaking the tension, but not the mood. Sherlock just looked up staring at John, who finally brought his lips to touch his. “Yes?” Sherlock asked softly.

“Yes.” John affirmed, kissing him once more. Sherlock finally let the palm of his hand wrap around John’s erection, just holding it as he digested the moment. John’s chest had tightened, and he briefly stuttered in their kiss. It really hadn’t been that long since he had been touched in this way, but like everything, it felt so much more intense with Sherlock. The dark-haired boy began moving his hand at a slow steady pace, quickly beginning to figure out what John liked. The angle was so much different from when he did this himself, it was an interesting challenge for him to maneuver around. 

“Come here.” John’s voice was low and thick with desire.

Sherlock looked up in confusion as to how he could get any closer to John than he already was. But John rolled him on top of him with ease, Sherlock’s hand coming out of the fabric along the way. John pulled him into a hard kiss, their tongues fighting for dominance - Sherlock was always happy to let John win that battle. 

John unbuttoned Sherlock’s high waisted black skinny jeans, leaving the front open as he placed his hand firmly on his boyfriend’s hip and began rubbing his clothed erection against Sherlock’s. Soft sighs and moans filled the room. John couldn’t believe how close he felt to his own climax just from rubbing himself against Sherlock. It almost felt embarrassing how quickly he thought was going to finish unless he put a stop to this…But he couldn’t. Instead he gave himself a distraction, picking Sherlock up and carrying him up the stairs to the boy’s bedroom.

Sherlock’s mind was racing more than usual. Feelings of intense emotions, passion, and arousal whirled through him. He silently questioned just how far John was planning to take this and if he had instigated too much. All these thoughts were forgotten when John threw him down on the bed and trailed kisses down his neck and collar bone. Sherlock was dizzy with how much he loved when John was rough with him, proving just how much strength he had over the other boy. John was drunk on the smell of Sherlock’s perfume that now also lingered on his tongue.

John’s broad frame loomed over the younger boy and he let his hand slip under Sherlock’s waistband, taking him in hand. It felt as if electric sparks shot through the raven-haired boy’s body. His first time being touched like this was overwhelming in the best way imaginable. 

Sherlock whimpered softly next to John’s ear, causing the other boy to growl seductively. “I’m gonna try something, alright?” he asked, and Sherlock nodded shyly. John lowered both of their pants just far enough down their legs to expose their cocks before he took them both in hand, stroking them together. 

Sounds of pleasure came from the both of them as they moved in tandem. Sherlock was lightheaded already, knowing he was moments away from coming, and John wasn’t much better. Sherlock said John’s name in a frail high-pitched warning, and the blonde pushed Sherlock’s shirt up just in time for the milky white spurts to land on his stomach. Watching Sherlock fall apart was enough to send John over the edge, his own ejaculate joining Sherlock’s.

John rolled onto his side and looked lovingly at Sherlock. The boy’s dark curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his ivory cheeks tinted pink, and lips swollen - every time John thought the boy could never look more beautiful, he was proved wrong. Sherlock stared blankly up at the ceiling, taking in what had just happened. John got off the bed and went to the other side, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on Sherlock’s lips, “I’ll be right back.” John walked down the hall to the bathroom, taking a washcloth from the closet and warming up the tap. He looked at himself in the mirror, and stared into the eyes of a man he wasn’t sure he knew anymore. He just touched another man - hell - he just got off with another man. He felt pangs of disgust with himself, but no matter how deep he searched he couldn’t find any feelings of regret. He ran the cloth under the now warm water before wringing it out and walking back to the room. 

Sherlock was still laying on his back, but now was less dazed looking than before. John cleaned the cooling, sticky liquid off of his boyfriend’s stomach before throwing the rag into the hamper. Sherlock redressed himself and looked at John who was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring down at the floor.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock knew the question was a little redundant, it was obvious John wasn’t the same as he was an hour ago. Had he pushed too far? Been over excited, and now John would resent him?

The jock looked at him and nodded before standing and pulling him to his feet. Sherlock pressed the side of his face to John’s’ shoulder and reveled in the feeling of safety he felt when John’s arms closed around him.

“Don’t think about me too much.” John said, kissing him lazily.

Sherlock sighed to himself,  _ I think about you constantly. _ But he knew what John meant and took a piece of comfort in that. “Are you still going to stay for a while?”

John pulled back to look at his boyfriend, insecurity written across his face, “Of course. Sherlock…” he breathed. “I hope your parents go out more often.”

The worrisome ambience passed as they both laughed, John always knew what to say. The rest of the evening was spent cuddled in front of the fire, with conversation flowing easily between them. 

John left not long after the Holmes’s had returned. He really should have gone home sooner but would have felt terrible leaving something as precious as Sherlock alone in that house.

“Did you get your fill of me tonight?” John texted in a sarcastic manner.

“Never. But I very much enjoyed tonight, all of it. -SH”

“Me too. Goodnight, Sherlock.”

“Goodnight. -SH”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hopefully you read the tags before reading this story, but if not- this is your heads up that from this chapter on there will be gradually more sexually explicit content and references, so if thats not your thing i recommend skipping over those parts or maybe clicking away haha. As always, please dont hesitate to leave comments, feedback, or questions! (seriously I am a slut for your comments) The updated playlist for this chapter will be posted (on here and my twitter) later in the day, I still need to put it together.  
> Stay safe and healthy,  
> Love Always,  
> Anna
> 
> QOTD #1: Do you all like when authors respond to your comments on their work?  
> QOTD #2: I would absolutely LOVE to know what your alls predictions/assumptions are for the future of this story!  
> QOTD #3: Thoughts on the twice a week updates with shorter chapters? i still don't know how i feel about it lol looking at these two chapters after the others were so long almost makes them feel sinful lol


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